Things About Foreign Exchange Students
by TheUnrulyBallerina
Summary: She's a dreaming reporter in need of an adventure for writing leads. He's a Polish exchange student that needs absolutely anything anyone can give him. – Cato/Clove, Modern Day AU. Rated T currently.
1. Chapter 1

**So, I started this as an original story, but converted it into a fic just for fun. This is the stupidest idea known to fanfiction.. but hey, I don't specialize in writing. It just keeps me sane while I'm unruly.. (hence my username.) But yeah.. this fic is about Cato and Clove.. which is one of my crazy ships (ships that I ship ****_waaay_**** too much.) **

**I don't know how I started writing this, but I didn't really see this idea floating about so why not? :) **

**Hope you enjoy! Worshipping and/or constructive criticism are the only types of reviews that will be tolerated. :o)**

**OH! And there is a different language use in this fic, so I've already inserted the translations for you. **

* * *

**_But there's someone who can help me_**

**_She's helped me twice before_**

**_Came down from a higher floor_**

**_-Try To Be Quiet; Callel_**

* * *

He likes the colors of the walls. Cerulean blue, mustard yellow, and a peachy salmon. Each color made an obvious division between each house unit, and he knew exactly which one was his.

His dance bag is swinging and hitting his side as he fast walks through the alleyway, endlessly searching for his home. Stuffed in a black satin string bag was his black tights, black leotard, and black ballet slippers. Everything was in black. It made him like the black swan in too many ways, though that wasn't his intention.

He just really liked black.

The cold wind rushes against his lily-white skin, giving it bumpy gooseflesh that bubble up on his fairly clothed form. He'd only worn a white t-shirt and khakis. Simplistic, but good enough to handle the weather of Legnica, Poland – especially for a native.

As soon as his house comes into view, he can see his traumatized mother, Katarzyna, rushing outside and onto the narrow cobblestone path, whacking a rat out with a wicker broom.

Her ashy blonde hair is tied up in a bun, some pieces of the long locks strewing out. Her slightly wrinkled face is scrunched up in disgust as she watches the dark rodent scampering away. She hated pests. Feared them, possibly.

"Kysz! Kysz!" She yells, waving her hand before whirling around to spot her son jogging up. {**Translation: **_Shoo! Shoo!_}

"Ma!" He calls with a smile, and she returns the grin.

"Cato!" Holding out her bony arms, she walks toward him. "Witaj kochanie! Czy korzystają z klasy balet dzisiaj?" {**Translation: **_Hello baby! Did you enjoy ballet class today?_}

"Dobra, jak zawsze," He hugs his mother tightly in his strong arms, pulling her frail and short body against his. {**Translation: **_As well as always._}

He allows a sigh to escape him when inhaling her smell. Not anything too magnificent, but it smelled like her and kept him calm. She was all he had left in this poor life of his.

Ms. Kat leads her son into the tall – but tiny – candied blue condominium, and he pushes himself inside. The scent of a savory apple pie intoxicates his nostrils as it drifts about the small living room/kitchen, and he throws himself onto the velvet couch.

"Synu, idź na górę i przygotuj się na lunch. Annie i jej rodzina będzie tu wkrótce." Ms. Kat says, piling delectable foods onto bread and topping it off with whole wheat. {**Translation: **_Son, go upstairs and get ready for lunch. Annie and her family will be here soon._}

Cato complies without a word.

The stairs to the upper floor are narrow. He's surprised he can still fit. He's not the tiny kid he was years ago; in fact people mistook his age all the time.

The walls on each side of him were cover in old floral wallpaper that was staining and peeling from the walls. If they had the money, renavations would be necessary. He was convinced they would begin to be infested with asbestos.

The top of the staircase creaks under his weight, which was mostly muscle from lifting petite girls for ballet and attending gymnastics each week.

The sound of a harsh knock rings around the small home, and his eyes widen. He rushes himself into his room, which was fairly close in the tiny array of rooms.

He stuffs himself inside his blue and gray room, nearly tripping over the bag that he had thrusted inside first. His bed also made a squeak under his body, making him wonder if he should skip lunch in order to look the part for dance and gym.

Cato didn't usually eat much anyway. Appetite went out the window awhile ago when he committed himself to his soon-to-be career.

It was his dream to be the one that the male gymnastics team or the Polish ballet wanted out of all the other boys with the same dream. He wanted to be the final choice, the one everyone considered the best of the best.

He let these perfections control his life. If he trusted himself enough, he might just be able to make it.

The teen can hear the soft footsteps of none other than Annie Cresta trotting up the stairs. He smiles to himself.

Annie and he went way back. A bit too far back, actually. She busts into his room unannonced, bouncing through the door and making the floors rattle with her excitement. "Witaj, Cato!" She calls, and he swears all of Poland can hear.

Well, maybe not all of Poland, but..

"Zamknij się, Jackowski!" {**Translation: **_Shut it, Jackowski!_}

Annie stops her jumping, slowly but surely. Her face morphs into innocence and she cringes when Cato smacks his forehead. He drags his hand down his face in exasperation, being the calm soul he is.

Through the grime-edged, dirty window, both can see the silouette of two teenage boys. Neither had bothered to memorize their names, all they knew was that they were jerks.

Cato opens the window, pushing up with extra strength as it gets stuck multiple times. Annie uses her delicate arms to help lift (which was really no help at all.)

The two twins in the alley across from Cato's are smirking from the other side. Their weasel/rat-like faces make Annie grimace in disgust. They lean against their own window pane which is a few feet away, and the look on their horrid features shows that they find themselves the most hilarious people that ever lived.

"Sorry, chłopaki." Cato deadpans. {**Translation: **_Sorry, guys._}

They scoff. "Cokolwiek, twinkle toes." The window slams shut. An exaggerated high-five is heard. {**Translation: **_Whatever, twinkle toes._}

The wind blows against their skin for awhile.

"Twinkle toes, huh? Nie słyszałem, że od trzeciej klasy." A mischievious grin crosses Annie's pink lips and Cato smirks. {**Translation: **_Twinkle toes, huh? I haven't heard that one since the third grade._}

"Kochanie! Muszę podzielić się czymś z tobą!" Ms. Kat calls frantically from just a floor below, sounding shaky and unsure. {**Translation: **_Baby! I have to share something with you!_}

* * *

The pink eraser of her pencil taps against the corner of her lip as she brainstorms, each idea raining a clap of thunder in her head before it evaporates into the cloud of shit-ideas.

Being on the News-Team isn't as easy as it looks. Writing the school paper is simple, but planning the leads is difficult – speaking as nothing ever happens at Orange Country Day. Shortens to OCD. Ironic. She didn't know why they picked that name, it was stupid. And she wasn't obsessively compulsive, either.

She rolls her eyes when some dork bounces by, winking at her as if he has a chance. She doesn't date. She doesn't love. Her career comes first.

The basement of their school is busy with the outsiders that worm through each of the sectioned-off labyrinths. She sits in the newsroom division, crossed-legs and a bored expression.

Through the plexi-glass windows, people watch her and shrug their heavy backpacks up their shoulders. She hardly notices because she doesn't care.

The header of her paper reads a skinned sentence: _January 13, 2013: School News Report / Clove Kentwell_

She couldn't think of anything else. Her brain was constantly working, but she couldn't think of anything at all. Even as the bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, she couldn't come up with a topic she hadn't already written – not that those were successful either, because_ nothing ever** happened** in this school._

Her shoulder bag is shockingly light as she hangs it on her body, pushing her chair back into the desk before walking to the door in the corner of the small room.

The hallways are narrow and uncomfortably hot, making a trigger in her easily bothered body tug slightly. People bump her shoulders and she reels away each time.

If there's one thing she hates, it's being touched. Nobody gets to touch her.

The stairs up to the main hallway are a long set, and she pauses in exasperation. _When are they going to replace these with an elevator?! _

"Hey princess," A recognizable male voice says from behind her, whirling around to stand in front of her. He leans against the rail and smirks at her. She blinks rapidly, not amused by the situation – or anything, really. "What do you want _now_, Marvel."

"You in my bed," He says, waggling his eyebrows.

_Of course you do. _If Marvel were smart, he would've had the decency to not bring something as suggestive as this up to someone like Clove. She adjusts her stance, putting on a fake smile. "Marvel, would you like to leave without another word, or on a stretcher? Either way is fine with me." Marvel goes pale, swallowing. _It wasn't even a frightening threat.._

Eventually, he gives in – grumbling out his frustration and speaking lowly. "Look, can you at least do me a favor?"

"Why would I do that?"

"Because you want me to leave you alone, like you asked me two years back.." He had a point. She complies with silence, but he knows her answer. "Can you help me make Katniss jealous..?"

Clove's jaw drops. "Katniss? Like.. the gymnast Katniss? The Girl on Fire?"

"The one and only," Marvel glances over at the chestnut haired girl as she stands against the wall, grey eyes piercing whatever book cover her eyes are set on. Her white skinny jeans and loose pink tank top make her look incredibly pretty, but Marvel would've liked her anyway. "God, she's beautiful.. please, Clove..?"

The brunette sighs. "Why don't you just try being _nice _to her? She doesn't have many friends. I'm sure she'd be delighted."

Marvel's face perks up, but easily deflates. "But I'm the biggest asshole in the building." He sure does know his place.

"Damn straight," Clove says shamelessly, offending the green-eyed boy. But he hadn't been wrong; so what was she supposed to say? _'No, you're not an asshole_? "But, she always glances at you, so if she likes you in any way I think she can get past your rep."

He smiles, looking at Katniss quickly and nodding. "Thanks.. you're not so bad after all."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, pretty boy." She rolls her eyes, glowering at him. Everybody knew that she might as well be labelled the coldest girl in New York City.

"I'll leave you be now." Marvel choppily walks himself over to a depressed-seeming Katniss Everdeen, who instantly peeks up when he nears her.

Clove decides not to pay attention to where this is going. It's not like it will effect her life one way or another.

Her ruby-red flats smack against the tile of each step with a satisfying _click_, and her hand slides on the silver railing with ease. She groans at the knot that has formed in her back. She was consumed in the idea that she'd have severe arthritus before she could even make it to graduation.

* * *

**Just a short little prologue, I guess. Tell me how you like the idea...? I'm aware the writing isn't great, it'll get better, I hope :)**

**Thanks ;)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, so I'm shocked that I got 2 follows and a NICE review. A bit too shocked, actually. I came home from ballet, scared to open my laptop, but my good friend (what the hell am I saying, most likely my ****_best _****friend) sent me the link and made me look at it because she's been stalking my story (Sorry, Cherry. xD)**

**…**

**_BelieveInDream: _****You have no idea how much that review meant to me. That was all I needed to stop sulking and write the next chapter.**

**_Clovelyshanonnigans_****: Wow, thank you! This is my first fic, so that means a lot. And haha, yes, I speak fluent English. At least I hope I do, lol!**

**…**

**And here goes the chapter.. hope you enjoy! **

* * *

**_I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired _**

**_I know, right now you don't care _**

**_But soon enough you're gonna think of me _**

**_And how I used to be _**

**_-Unwell; Matchbox 20_**

* * *

Clove wishes her 7 year old brother wasn't such a little bitch. His giggles seemed to be infatuated with her ears, so much that not even headphones could block them out.

She slams her hand onto the desk, crumpling the paper that landed in her fist.

Her knuckles turn white and her face tightens in anger, all the while two fingers clamping around her glasses and ripping them from her face. She stands harshly, the rolling chair whipping out from underneath her and taking a ride across the wooden office.

She swears she can see the lights flicker from above her and the wind pausing outside, because this won't be pretty.

"Jason!" She yells, anger in her voice and she expects the running footsteps to end.

They don't. _Of course they don't. _

She stomps through the double French doors, hearing them smack and shudder against the edges of the walls. Her head whirls to look down the hallway where a bright red Superman cape trails behind the safety of the wall.

Those giggles again.

"Jason, get your bottom in here!" If it were her choice, she would've used more explicit speaking. But even though her little brother has probably already lost at least half his sanity, she doesn't want to _scar _him.

"Clovey gotta catch me!" Jason calls teasingly, his arms in the air and bending back as he rushes down the opposite hall.

"No! Uncle Haymitch left me in charge! You have to do what I say on account of his rules! And I would've been in charge anyway, I'm older than you!" Her hands land on her hips and she perks up her nose, hearing tiny footsteps running back in her direction.

Jason's superhero-mask covered face peeks out. "When did we start listening to Uncle Haymitch?" Those damn giggles again.

"Since Mom and Dad left us!" She didn't lie to little Jay. She saved most of his innocence, but broke it to him early how as soon as he was born with his... defect.., their parents had put him in a box and told her to walk to the nearest foster home. Being 9 years old, she did it without question.

Now she wonders why she didn't ask the question. Perhaps it would be because whatever answer they gave her, that would've been a lie too. Just like when they told her they loved her, and that she was beautiful no matter what she looked like. They were all lies.

That's why she figured she was so guarded. She'd only had three boyfriends in the past. Nobody kept her – except for Uncle Haymitch. She loved and cherished him more than anything. Even if he could get a little obsessive with the drinking, Jason made it stop with just a glance of his brown eyes... for two days.

"Yeah, well.. I don't listen to anyone! People listen to me! I'm SuperJay!" _SuperJay. If he was going to be a superhero, he should at least do it right. _

"That makes you the _villain_, doofus!"

She would chase him as he bobs down the hallways again, arms out like airplane style; but she wasn't really into running since she nearly broke her skull during an incident with a rock.

It was a game of tag and she was chasing Thresh, he was afraid and decided to fend her off with a rock. It had clunked against her forehead, and to the nurse's office she went.

It hurt like hell.

She knew he was sorry, but that didn't cover up the pristine scar on her right temple.

She tries jogging for the little boy, but when she turns the corner she finds he is racing down the other hall already. Everywhere she turns, he's just a step ahead.

"Jason please, I–" She gasps when he comes out of her room with a pile of books cradled in his arms, most of them spilling from the top as he jumps on by. "Hey! Put those back!" She runs down the hall, rounding the corner to watch his bedroom door slam; the artwork he posted on it with tape soaring to the floor from the impact. _On the bright side, the laughing is muffled.._

"You read too much!" He calls from the other side of the door.

"You don't read enough!"

"I'm in the second grade, gimme' a break!" She raises her eyebrows. Uncle Haymitch was right, he truly does take after her.

When she reaches the door, she presses herself against the white wood and tries to push inside. The malicious ripping of paper urges her on.

"_Mwahahahaha!_" Jason cries animatedly, painfully tearing more papers. This kid should be on a movie screen.

"I'll make you pay for those!" She wails much like a sister would, fumbling with the doorknob and clobbers her palm against the barrier. "You can make a lemonade stand or join boy scouts to sell cookies and make money, but if I see even a single blemish on those pages I will–"

"Do what?" Jason taunts in his squeaky tone, the breaching finally stopping. "I already have more money than you 'cause I spend it wisely!"

Clove scoffs, loud enough for him to hear. "On what? Plastics glasses, bubblegum, and a giant Slinky? Yep. _Wise._"

She can practically see Jay's stature from behind the door: hands on hips, face in an angry frown, and eyes glaring holes through the wood. "I'm sorry Clovey, but everyone says you're a bitch. And I don't know what that means; but I think it means you read too much."

Clove's forehead falls onto the door. She breathes out, then in. He chest rises and falls quickly as she melts to the ground, her back leaning against the wall.

"Please let me in.." She whispers, running a hand through her hair and taking out the thin, plastic red headband pulling it back.

She hears the knob unlocking, and looks up hopefully. Sure enough, her little blonde brother appears with shredded paper in his hands – paper without writing.

He lets it fall to the floor and walks around to her side.

Clove shakes her head. "You little _porcupine_." She mutters, a soft smirk crossing over her pink lips. Jason giggles, but this time it's less annoying.

"I know, I'm a pokey pokey po'cupine." He sits down next to her, and wraps his tiny arms around her torse from the side while crawling onto her lap. "You don't think I'd really turn your books into a confetti, do you Clovey?"

Clove leans her head back with a laugh. "You've turned a lot of occasions into a party with your homemade confetti, Jay." Jason slumps. "I know... but not your books. I know you like books."

The brunette hugs her little brother tighter to her form, sighing and brushing back his shags on ashy-blonde hair.

He was almost too similar to Peeta Mellark – she wouldn't be surprised if that kid was their long lost brother.

"I forgive you," She pats his head, and begins to stand to wipe off her outfit. "Now go be a porcupine somewhere else."

He sticks his tongue out teasingly, bouncing down the halls to Uncle Haymitch's 'lair.'

* * *

Cato keeps his back straight and his mouth shut in front of company, not having touched his food. Annie reflects this state.

Ms. Kat narrows her eyes, scrutinizing the dancers' while the tension continues to rise. "Czy jest coś nie tak z gotowania?" {**Translation: **_Is there something wrong with the cooking?_}

Cato shakes his head. "Jest pyszne, Ma." He explains, looking at Annie who stares back in the same manner. {**Translation: **_It's delicious, Ma._}

"Mieliśmy obiad napełniania!" Annie finishes with a falsely broad grin that Cato (unfortunately) has to mimic. {**Translation: **_We had a filling lunch!_}

Ms. Kat raises an eyebrow along with Mrs. Jayna, Annie's mother, but both nod their heads and Ms. Kat rises to make an announcement. _Shit. _Cato doesn't usually like announcments. Announcments mean change, and change isn't something he normally looks forward to.

"Więc .. Cato. Przypuszczam, że wiesz muszę ci powiedzieć coś bardzo ważnego, i myślę, że Ci się spodoba!" Ms. Kat claps her hand together and Annie smiles, resting a hand on Cato's shoulder. _Super tense muscles, _she concludes simply. {**Translation: **_So.. Cato. I suppose you know I've got to tell you something very important, and I think you're going to like it!_}

"Jedziesz do Ameryki!" {**Translation: **_You're going to America!_}

She put it so blatant, so non-descriptive; that Cato was confused. Why was he going to America?

Annie claps boisterously from beside him, flinging out of her chair and jumping up and down in excitement. Anyone could tell she was a candidate for ADHD.

"Ale dlaczego?" The blonde tilts his head, and his mother slides a piece of paper across the table. {**Translation: **_But why?_}

It is edged with a shiny golden outline and there is a signature at the bottom.

This letter was obviously translated, the Polish is awful.

Annie peeks over his shoulder, attempting to read all the print – including the fine. She notices the transparent pink ballet shoes in the background of the paper of the document, with ribbons whirling up to make it near the edges of the paper.

She watches the paper wilt from his hand, and notices how his jaw has dropped in shock.

He pieces the information together. He's going to America to be a tribute to the American Ballet Theatre of New York to audition for one of the lead male dancer spots, and he is to attend a school in the area as a foreign exchange student that will live in some stranger's house and some stranger will live in his all because he's now a part of a program he didn't even know he signed up for.

His mother was the shit.

"Dziękujemy!" He throws his arms in the air, celebrating about the only part of the invitation he cared about. {**Translation: **_Thank you!_}

Annie dances and cheers right along side him, and the mothers watch with satisfied expressions.

Annie and Cato were like brother and sisters on many levels. They had a bit to much in common, and went together like peanut butter and jelly (which neither of them like.) They talked about having a steady relationship, but both concluded that it would be like going out with your favorite sibling... because that's what they were,_ brother and sister_.

Annie understood why Cato was the way he was and why he wasn't the way he wasn't, and vice-versa. They stuck together in their training and had personalities that matched up perfectly.

And not to mention the borderline eating disorder they shared.

They weren't stupid. They knew it was wrong. They knew it was bad, but the consequences seemed to be shedding away one by one for them. It was like a nasty flu they couldn't shake. Their instructor had accused them both of not having the right eating habits, and together they took it the wrong way.

"Chodźmy do miasta. To będzie zabawa!" Annie suggests in an excited voice, taking her best friend's hand and dragging him toward the door. {**Translation: **_Let's go to the city. It will be fun!_}

The cold air hits them, and they run off down the cobblestone path leaving the door wide open and their mothers' cleaning dishes.

"Oni na pewno będzie miss siebie." Mrs. Jayna says indifferently, scrubbing the stains off a glass plate before rinsing it and setting it on an old rag to her left with all the other plates and forks. {**Translation: **_They're certainly going to miss each other._}

"Cóż, oczywiście. Bez obrazy dla Ciebie lub Twoja córka, ale miejmy nadzieję, uda mu się nowych przyjaciół." {**Translation: **_Well, of course. No offense to you or your daughter, but hopefully he can make new friends._}

* * *

**Alllllrighty! Another short chapter, but in a story like this I've gotta write slow at first until the rising action is applied.**

**And, I know most of you will consider Cato as OOC, but.. I just had these ideas in the back of my head, that have bothered me for awhile.. I figured I'd try to make them work.. after all, I need a little room to make mistakes (something I'm totally not okay with doing.)**

**I hope you enjoyed! Review my story, maybe..? :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Everything hurts right now.. physically and mentally. I'm sorry I couldn't get a chapter up. I appreciate all the people that care about this story, though. It means a lot.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**_Anything we have known, anything we've forgotten._**

**_In the rain, in the dark we'll lay_**

**_In your arms, in your arms I'll stay._**

**_-In Your Arms; Kina Grannis_**

* * *

The airport was clear of any people; it was 4:00 in the morning. One lonely, tired crew travels through the pearly white halls. Everything was being cleaned as he walked on through, seemingly lost as he had never been to an airport before. He was kept fairly secluded his entire life.

He had thrown his bag onto a conveyor belt to be taken to the back of the plane, and now he felt lost without it. It had all his things, except for what was in his carry-on.

Wiping the building sweat from his forehead, he sighs. Traveling wasn't his forte. Perhaps that was why he felt himself shaking.

Annie walks beside him, noticing his useless shivering and hitting him on the arm for it. He jumps away from her and scowls.

"Przestań być taki chwiejny, będziesz robić świetne!" She says, offering her brightest smile that he weakly returns. {**Translation: **_Stop being so shaky, you'll do great!_}

But even Annie was fairly concerned. They'd always relied on having one another as a crutch since they were 7, when they started dance. She'd had other friends that had gone away to Sweden and Ukraine, but never _America._

And the fact that it was her best friend, she was frightened for him.

She decides to stay bright. For his sake.

Once met by a barrier, by _security_, he turns to see his mother and Annie. His mother is frantically trying to stop the tears flowing from her eyes. He drops his things to the floor and walks up to her, bending down to give her one of the last hugs they'll have for awhile.

He'd miss her the most. He'd call his mother every night, asking if she was warm and happy and if she needed to talk about anything. He liked being there for his mother, and being away from her made him uncomfortable in a sense.

She pats his back and whispers something he never expected to hear. "Twój ojciec byłby z ciebie dumny..." {**Translation**: _Your father would be proud..._}

Slowly but surely, he nods and kisses her on her cheek, bidding her farewell. "Kocham cię, Ma." She smiles and returns the words. {**Translation**: _I love you, Ma._}

Annie throws herself onto him before he can even reach her on his own. "Kiedy mówią ci tańczyć, ci tańczyć swój tyłek off." He chuckles at her words, keeping her steady on his tipping body as she has wrapped herself around him tightly. {**Translation: **_When they tell you to dance, you dance your ass off._}

"Obiecuję, Ann. Obiecuję..." {**Translation: **_I promise you, Ann. I promise._..}

She smiles, ruffling his hair and pushing something into his hand. He opens his fist, looking down at the złoty she had shoved into his palm. He raises an eyebrow.

He didn't expect her to pull out a banana. With a sigh, she glances between the fruit and him.

"Będę, jeśli będzie." She whispers. {**Translation**: _I will if you will._}

Cato stares at her for awhile. She was proposing something that would be difficult for both of them, but he nods anyway. He was tired of the self-loathing. Tired of controlling the one part of his life he felt was the only thing he could control and most of all; tired in general. The lack of food was slowing him down, literally and figuratively.

Annie grins and backs away as he takes a steady path to security. He tries to contain the happiness radiating off him as he careers around all the black ropes.

He nearly falls when a shriek rings through the airport; a long and loud shriek.

Annie had yelled. "_Nie zapomnij napisać!_" {**Translation**: _Don't forget to write!_}

…

He seems to reach his gate so fast, finding the labyrinth of blue leather seats to be scarcely filled. There were only a few others scattered around the gate.

A business man with a crazy beard, a brightly colored woman who looked as though she were straight out of the loony bin, and a little girl with dark brown hair that stuck out in different directions. There was also a family of Mennonites and a guy in a fast food restaurant uniform.

Cato had thought he was going to be a fish out of water with his ballet bag carry-on and his grotesque feet popping out from his footwear (that were only in worn out slide-on slippers) as well as pajamas that were huge, even on someone like him.

He carefully chooses who he's going to sit by: the little girl. She wasn't Polish, he could tell.

As soon as he sits down, the girl jumps and looks at him as if he has six eyes, pink skin, and a tail.

He stares right back at her, but much more calm.

She was a cute little thing. Dressed for the cold with a hat on, as well as yellow rainboots to shelter her feet. He smiles, turning forward again whilst pulling out a book to read.

Even during the first paragraph, he can feel the little girl scooting closer and closer every second until she is leaning her face in front of his book.

"What's your book called?"

He furrows his brow when she speaks, and instantly she nods. "Oh.. you're Polish. I'm sorry, I didn't know!" Then, as quick as lightning, she whips out a pink laptop that has stickers all over the cover.

She types something in to a little box, and he finds that the next box has Polish in it. He raise his eyebrows in amusement. Most people would just stop talking to someone who didn't speak their language.

She passes her laptop over to him, setting it on his lap.

"Nazywam się Rue. Jak masz na imię?" He reads in his head. {**Translation**: _My name is Rue. What is your name?_}

He passes her laptop back over and fumbles with his thumbs. "Cato."

Rue grins, enthusiastically typing in another sentence an passing the laptop back to him. "Podoba mi się to imię! Przepraszam, jeśli jestem ci przeszkadza, to jest po prostu nudne i nie mam z kim porozmawiać ... Czuję się tak z here miejsce." It says.

He takes a peek at the English sentence, instantly horrified. "I like that name! I'm sorry if I'm bothering you, it's just boring and I have no one to talk to ... I feel so out of place here."

The words are so different. It scares him that he'll have to learn this.

"Wiem, jak się czujesz. Dlaczego byłeś w Polsce?" He types quickly, tensing slightly as a gust of cold air blows past them. {**Translation**: _I know how you feel. Why were you in Poland?_}

Rue looks sad. Her hands sunk on the keyboard and her eyes avert down. What has this little girl gone through?

He watches as the words pop up on the screen. "I przyszedł do mojego ojca. Mieszka tu teraz." {**Translation: **_I came to my father. He lives here now._}

Rue stops typing, sucking her lips into her to bite on them nervously before punching in more words.

"To jak ... kiedy on rozwiedziona mama, rozwiódł się i mnie." {**Translation**: _It's like... when he divorced my mother, he divorced me._}

Things were quiet for awhile. Cato knew exactly what she felt. When he was five, all he wanted was for his father to come back from the war. But he just left, for whatever reason.

Cato had found out his father was dead a few months after. It broke his heart, remembering the promise that had been made. He said he would come back, he said he would make sure mother was always happy.

He had broken that promise.

Rue didn't expect to receive a giant hug from the Polish teenager next to her.

* * *

Clove stares at the wall, leaning over her lunch without any interest at all. At this point, she was just trying to get through the day. Calculus is next, she has to be ready. She's studied all night for the test, but still only got through half the lesson.

Her brain doesn't work from the left side. She's flunked most of her science, chemistry, and arithmetic classes. Luckily, Uncle Haymitch didn't pester her about it. He would just talk about how great her english and history grades were.

In that next second, Johanna slides into the seat in front of her. "What's up, bitch?"

"I'm about to ride a roller coaster; you?" Johanna could appreciate sarcasm. That's what made them such great friends.

"I got a date."

Clove scoffs. "Okay, cool. Now tell me what's really up."

"That's it," The raven-haired says calmly, reclining back slightly. "I got a date."

No matter how attractive Johanna was, Clove was shocked. Not many people could overlook her personality. That's why she remained single for so long and why she didn't have many friends.

"Hanna, that's great. What's his name?" Clove asks, plucking a popcorn shrimp from her plate. She dunks it in marinara sauce, then popping it between her teeth to bite into.

"Her," Johanna states. "Her name is Madge."

A choke elicits around the cafeteria. The entire southeast side of the room hears – except for Johanna, who has just draped her headphones over her head and onto her ears.

Almost instantly, Clove can hear the faint sound of P!nk bursting from the headphones. Johanna shuts her eyes and nods her head with the beat, whilst Clove tries regaining her bearings.

"But.. she's a girl." She breathes, preparing another popcorn shrimp hastily.

"I've noticed," Johanna says, taking a sip from her juice box and scrolling down the song list on her phone.

Clove stares at her expectantly. With a sigh, Johanna pauses the music and slips her headphones around her neck. "I've been feeling really weird about her since we started hanging out. I always look forward to seeing her and.. that's pretty much it, right now. I thought I could try this, you know?"

Clove's mouth opens and closes rapidly, much like a fish as she tries coming up with reasons why Johanna isn't gay. "But.. what about that time with Gale? Didn't you guys hit second base last year, or sometime.."

"Yeah.."

The brunette nods. ".. well, maybe you just admire her." Johanna looks up. "Like.. I might admire Glimmer's pretty blonde hair and her green eyes, but that doesn't mean I want to kiss her."

Johanna nods, taking in all the information and thinking it could be possible. "Yeah, I guess."

"... do you want to kiss Madge?"

Johanna threw her empty juice box at Clove's head. "That's personal, Clove." She chuckles as her friend's face contorts into a scrunch as the juice box clunks against her seemingly hollow forehead.

"Fine, whatever. I just thought you might've wanted to talk about it." She laughs, rubbing the slight notch on her head from the pointed juice box corner.

"Hey ladies," Marvel swings by the table. "I have something I want to ask you." Johanna's eyes widen and she rushes to put on her headphones, but Marvel knocks them off her head. "Johanna Mason, you're going to listen to me this time." Clove stifles a laugh, as he hadn't even looked at Hanna, but had known exactly what she was doing behind his back.

How they did that, she would never know.

"So, you guys know I have a band.."

"Morphling; we're familiar with it." Johanna deadpans, tipping her head back and plopping a mandarin orange on her tongue.

"And we have a gig at that funky little pizza place we always used to go to Freshman year. I was wondering if you'd come watch us." Johanna's jaw drops, revealing a partly chewed mandarin orange. Clove gasps through her teeth and covers her face with her hands. "Swallow!"

"Fine!" Hanna sends the fruit down her throat, proceeding to drop her jaw once more. Marvel looks at her in confusion, furrowing his brow. "What?" "You think I'm gonna go sit in that tiny little place just to listen to you and your blockhead friends bang shit around and call it music?"

Marvel frantically turns to Clove. "Well.. are you gonna come..?"

She looks at him innocently as he begs her with his eyes, looking just a vulnerable as she does. Eventually, the brunette rolls her eyes and sighs. "Fine. But only for half an hour, then I have to get back home to Jason."

The boy nods excitedly. "Sweet! Thank you, Clove."

"You're welcome." She mutters as he jogs back to his own table on the ramp, where Katniss is sitting. He kneels down beside her to catch her by surprise, causing her to nearly fly back; but she grins when she sees him and gives him a hug.

Clove narrows her eyes. "Katniss is in for some trouble with that asshole part of her barely existant life." She growls, turning her gaze back to Johanna – who has an eyebrow raised and her arms crossed.

"What?"

Johanna shakes her head and grabs another one of Clove's popcorn shrimp.

"Hanna, what?"

"You can't hold a grudge against Marvel forever." The raven-haired girl states, knowing the reaction could either be really sad or really mean.

The brunette smacks her forehead, dragging her hand down her face. "Why not?"

"Because," Hanna scoffs, grabbing the second juice box she has and ripping the straw off the backside. "You were the one that wanted out, not him." She says, poking the tip of the straw through the silver barrier and taking a sip of the apple juice.

Clove shuts her eyes tight, slamming her head onto the table. "The only reason we dated was because I was desperate and all he wanted was sex."

"He did _not_ just want sex," Johanna says firmly when Clove jams her fork into her pasta, twirling it onto the prongs and shoving it into her mouth. "If he just wanted sex, you wouldn't have had a happy Snow White relationship for 2 years, and you wouldn't still be a virgin."

"How do you know he didn't just do that to make it seem that way?" Clove accuses, scowling with a passion and pulling out her notebook. Sticky notes burst from between pages and every lined paper in there is filled with her messy handwriting, as well as footnotes and a bunch of other things in the over-used composition book.

"Because, when Gloss and I had asked him about it last year he said he would rather not have sex with you at all over making you unhappy, Clove."

Clove shakes her head, disbelieving. "Whatever. He was always such an asshole anyway."

"No, he was dry-humored."

The bell rings, calling in students from lunch and Clove stands. She throws away her food quickly and packs her book into her shoulder bag. "Yeah, well. I left. His loss."

Johanna gazes up at her friend, seeing the brunette's nose turned up and her skinny arms crossed. "... I think it's yours, because out of the two of you, he's the one that moved on and is still happy living his life." Johanna had a point. The break-up had been anything but sweet. She leaves Clove awestruck as she flips up her headphones, walking out the double doors with the flow of other teens.

Clove had moved on too. She had moved on first, actually. But Johanna was right, Marvel was more happy then her. And perhaps he always would be.

* * *

**I hope that was good! I would appreciate your thoughts very much. :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**So far so good, I suppose. I'm trying to update as much as I can before I get really busy. I'm very nervous about this story. **

**…**

**_HolyHungerGames: _****Thank you for your support! I'm glad you enjoy reading this, it meant a lot to hear that :) **

**_littlefuhrman: _****I'm surprised you've even reviewed my story, I love your work! And I appreciate you looking at mine :) **

**_BelieveInDream_****: ... I swear to god, I don't even know what to say to you.. your review meant so much to me. It gave me some of the self-confidence I wish I had more of. Thank you. **

**_Noelia: _****Thanks so much! And I'm very glad you think my English is good! XD And you should learn English! It's work, but it's worth it, I think so. :) What is your native language? I feel the same about Clove, I like portraying her this way and I'm happy you like it as well. Thank you for this review! :) **

**…**

**Well. Here goes absolute nothing. It's midnight and I'm exhausted, so feel free to point out the blatant mistakes. **

* * *

**_I had a dream my life would be,_**

**_So different from this hell I'm living._**

**_So different now, from what it seemed._**

**_Now life has killed the dream I dreamed._**

**_- I Dreamed A Dream; Various Artists, Les Misérables _**

* * *

Clove's pen explodes dark blue ink all of a sudden. She tries not to scream when it blemishes everything in its wake, seeping onto her hands and into a blob on her paper. The words she had written are shielded by the ink, all her hard work gone.

_Damn pens, _she thinks, chucking the defective pen into the silver metal trash can with disdain. She doesn't admit that she had been pressing too hard.

It was 4:00 in the morning on the next day and she was still caught up on what Johanna said. _Damn her too. _

This was sort of an off day for Clove. It was Friday, and it was the last day of school until new kids. As if their school wasn't packed enough.

The lamb-covered nightgown (which was very childish, but comfy none-the-less) is still pristine and perfect, which she is thankful for. The ink would never wash out of the silk, and she's had this since forever.

Her forehead smashes onto the desk in fatigue and exasperation. When she finally peeks up, she sees the picture of her, Jason, and Uncle Haymitch on top of a ski mountain in Denver. She had a grin—one with her two front teeth missing—and Uncle Haymitch gave a thumb's up to the camera.

He heart drops. She can hardly look at this picture without noticing Jason's cleft lip. They had finally raised the money to fix it, and the scar was healing up well. But she had felt so bad, people everywhere–it was all they were able to look at when they saw him. 'The kid with the lip' they classified him as and Clove had hated it. Sure, her brother was annoying but he was still just about all the family she had left.

She sighs.

Even at 4:00 in the morning, the squeak of the French doors comes and Jason appears in his Buzz Lightyear pajamas, sucking his thumb with his worn, discolored red cape hanging on his back. Sometimes, Clove worried it would strangle him in the middle of the night.

"Clovey I heard a scary sound."

She clutches her forehead, nodding and looking at him. "I'm sorry, did I wake you?" He bobs his head saying 'yes.' "Maybe you should get back to sleep.. you have a field trip today, don't you?"

"Yes, to the aquarium!" He cheers softly, watching as her finger pushes against her pursed lips, shushing him.

"And I'm very happy about that," She winks. "But let's try to be quiet, I already have a headache." Jason gives her a tiny sliver of a smile – his front teeth missing. "Go back to bed, Jay.. just for a couple hours." And she turns, half-expecting to hear little sock-covered feet leaving the room.

But there aren't. So she turns again. "Jay; bed, please."

"I can't go to sleep without you tucking me in."

"You can't be serious." The brunette scoffs, pulling out the wooden drawer and searching through crushed sticky notes and pencils with stubby erasers until she found a proper black pen.

"I se'wious."

Clove growls under her breath. Sure, she'd been tucking Jason in for awhile now, but it didn't mean she wanted to do it all the time.

"Can we please just skip it tonight? You're a big boy."

"That would be like ice cream without sprinkles," The tiny blonde points out.

Again, Clove makes a sound._ Jason's lucky he's so cute. _"You'll have to get showered and dressed in the next 2 hours for the bus anyway. We can go lay on the couch for awhile."

Jason's face lights up. "Can we watch _Blue's Clues?_"

Clove nods her head, silently standing and rolling the chair back into its previous home. She slides her dainty feet into fluffy white flip-flop slippers, then flicking off the lamp. She herself was exhausted, but she didn't like sleep. The same nightmare came every night, her crossing the street with Jason in a cardboard box; this same lamb nightgown (but bigger on her then) sagging on her body.

Every night, she wondered _will I make it in time?_ Every night, she never did. Flashing lights rammed her way and her baby brother went flying out of her grasp.

Jason grabs her hand and she takes him out into the living room, her eyes tingling and her retinas becoming sensitive at the dim light over the stove in the kitchen. The kitchen was right behind where the living room was, illuminating half of the light brown carpet and reflecting onto the black screen of the television.

Jason lays down on the black microfiber couch, cuddling into the blanket Clove drapes over him and watching as the television flickers to life.

A re-run of _Jersey Shore_ comes on, bleeping noises ringing around the room and Clove cringes, fumbling to change the channel until the animals of _64 Zoo Lane_ show up.

"I thought you said we were gonna watch _Blue's Clues_?" Jason frowns at her in disapproval.

"It'll come on next." Clove pats his head before walking off into the kitchen, opening the bread box and pulling out an English muffin. She grabs one of the knives they use and slices the rubber-like bread in half in a swift cut.

She's always been good with sharp things. On more than one occasion, she has been the chef.

Into the toaster oven they are thrown and when the click of the orange strip lightbulbs below begins to heat her breakfast, she moves to the pantry door and pulls out some peanut butter.

"Look, Clovey!" Jason calls quietly, pointing at the screen with a chubby finger. "Lucy is sliding down Georgina's neck 'cause Georgina's a giraffe!"

"I see that," Clove says blankly, trying to seem interested. Her little brother looked up to her. He really did, he relied on her. She had raised him as much as she could, taught him the lessons he needed to know while they were in foster care.

She watches as he sucks his thumb, mesmorized by the screen until he calls for her in a whisper-yell. "Clovey!"

"Yes?"

"May I have some Mini Wheats?" He says, a hint of proudness in his tone. Ever since his teacher scolded him for saying 'can I go to the bathroom?' with a sassy 'I'm not sure, can you?' two days back, he's been saying 'may' ever since.

She nods and he goes back to his TV session, once again captivated. She takes out a green bowl, one with a handle – much like a large coffee cup – and then walks the short distance to the pantry once more. She shuffles throughout the varieties of cereals; Lucky Charms, Peanut Butter Crunch, Cherrios, Applejacks, until her hand clasps around the Mini Wheats box.

"Hey Jay?"

"Yeah?"

"They've got the blueberry frosting, is that okay?"

"Yeah."

She pours the frosted wheats into the bowl, hearing the clinking sound as they pile up in there. If there one thing she's learned, it's to not put too many in there. Jason will just crush them up until they looked like oatmeal, anyway.

It was revolting. But he always says even if it's one big ugly mess, it's going to taste exactly the same. He was right, but texture wise it was nasty.

She spills the milk into the bowl next, hearing footsteps coming down the hall and she knew her Uncle Haymitch had woken up. She smirks when Jason calls out to him.

"Hi Uncle Haymitch!"

"Hey little bit, how'you doin'?" He asks and Clove peeks to the side, watching her mother's brother lean down to hug the young boy.

He moves to her next, shifting into the kitchen and leaning against the counter beside her.

"I have a surprise for you today."

She laughs. "Great. You know I love being surprised, especially by you because everything you do is so surprising, Uncle Haymitch."

He chuckles in response. "I know, but.. I think you're gonna like this one."

* * *

Cato is exhausted. Absolutely done for.

He collapses onto the bus, where a few New Yorkers glare at him – but he was thankful for getting them to look up from their cell phones.

They stare at him as he re-adjusts, ten different eyes staring at him in ten different ways. It made him uncomfortable. Thankfully, they look away and return to whatever business they were a part of before and Cato looks out the window. No one else was getting on the bus as it sat in the parking lot, that is until a little girl came bobbing down the concrete ramp under the dim lights.

Spirally hair, dark skin, cute hat. He uses these attributes to identify Rue, his airplane buddy. She hops onto the bus, tripping as her suitcase pulls her back down the stairs stumbling.

"Woah! You alright there, kid?" The bus driver says in a thick accent, sound as though he's scolding her and even more so when grabbing her by the elbow.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine." Rue confirms, and then goes back to get her suitcase. But she can't pull it up on her own.

Cato stands once he realizes the driver isn't helping – assuming it's not part of the service in America – and wraps his hands over the 12 year old's to help her lug the over-stuffed bag onto the bus.

The doors shut with a _whack,_ and he flinches when a grumbling sound is heard from beneath them. Rue and him nearly fly back from the speedy departure, but he manages to catch her and grab hold of a pole.

She looks at him with the warmest smile. "Thanks, Cato."

He smiles back at the word 'thanks.' She taught him that one on the plane.

"Thanks, Rue."

She giggles when they sit down. "I think you mean _'you're welcome.'_" But she knew that's what he meant. He would get there. She had already printed him out a list of the 200 most common English words translated from Polish.

She wasn't sure why she was so fascinated by him; maybe it was because he was nice to her and because he understood her, but she hoped they could keep in contact.

"Busy moon," Cato points to the sky, were the faded silouette of the moon is in the dull blue skies of dawn.

Rue grins. "Faded moon." She corrects, finding it funny that he just pieces random words he recalls together and says them.

Cato looks at Rue, wondering what she had said. When he said busy back in his household, it meant voluptous and boisterous, much like Annie–_Annie. _

He frowns to himself, feeling a pang in his heart. He suddenly realized the weight of the situation without his best friend. They were closer then he thought, as if they were conjoined twins.

"Next stop, Manhattan." The intercom crackles, much like from one of those astronaut shows.

Cato looks to Rue, and she shakes her head no.

Half the people push past to get into the bustling cities of Manhattan, he doesn't appreciate getting elbowed in the face.

Many people leave at Park Avenue and Midtown as well until Rue and him are the only ones left, and they are going over a bridge. A flourescent green sign reads 'Brooklyn' on it as they pass, jiggling by on the bouncy roads.

The bus seems to get colder and Rue, being the 12 year old she was, snuggles closer to her new friend. Cato wonders how someone could be so comfortable with a semi-stranger.

Soon, the vehicle comes to a stop and Rue slowly but surely gets up. Cato watches her with innocent eyes, wondering what's happening. He looks outside, seeing the dimly lit streets and the trash-stuffed curbs; Rue couldn't live here!

"Goodbye," Rue whispers, but she then smiles softly and pulls out a black Sharpie. She takes his hand, writing on the back of it gently. She writes her email. Cato knew what an email was, he had one too! Ma had made him get one after they found out his desparture date.

He was grateful for it when the little girl hugged him one last time and he knew he would have to speak with her again. She reminded him of Annie.

* * *

Clove's fingernails tap against her desk as the teacher writes a bunch of dates on the board for history class.. this class was so boring, even if she was good at it. All they learned were these stupid dates of when things happened and why, it was tedious.

As soon as the bell rings, she sandwiches her book back together and stuffs it in her bag, also gathering her pencils and she can feel someone looming over her. She looks up and finds the person she never would've expected to approach her.

Katniss Everdeen.

"Uh.. hi."

Clove blinks as kids fumble to get out of the room, and she longs to join their freight train to leave the awkwardness.

Slowly, she stands, not taking her eyes from the grey-eyed teen's face. "... look, if you want the answers to the English test I–"

"No," Katniss chuckles, rolling her eyes playfully. "I actually just thought.. well..." She looks almost shy as she talks to Clove, her face going red in embarrassment. "I don't think you're going to say yes, but since we don't really need to practice English, do you wanna skip next period with me?"

Clove felt a rush of cold heat rushing from her head to her toes. She hadn't skipped school in a long time. Not since freshmen year. That was 2 years ago, she was a junior now. She took high school more seriously.

But Katniss was right, neither of them needed to study English anymore than they already had in these past years. They were both grad-school level, and Mr. Flickerman wouldn't judge them for it.

Plus, Clove thinks it would be nice to have a girl friend – one that wasn't Johanna. Most of her friends were guys, and as of right now, she was considering Johanna one of the guys as well.

"Sure, why not?" She made her decision, adjusting her shoulder bag with a slight smile.

…

Clove drinks her thick strawberry smoothie as she and Katniss walk around in Times Square for the 2 hours they have to kill. People bustle by and they see a big billboard advertising the Naked Cowboy.

"Sometimes I wonder how he even got famous," Katniss wonders aloud, sipping her mango smoothie and looking up at the sign.

"He's practically naked with only a guitar and tiny briefs to cover his junk," Clove says. "It's sort of a novelty for tourists to get a picture with that."

Katniss laughs. "You're probably right."

Clove smiles and looks over at the girl, finding her gazing down at the gum and grime-covered cement. "Is there something you wanted to ask, or did you really want to hang out with me?" She asks seriously, starling Katniss from her stare.

Katniss bites her lip. "Well, I did want to ask you a question.. but, not anymore. It's not important."

Clove stares at the ground feeling someone hit her shoulder and jumping a bit. ".. look, Katniss.. Marvel's a really great guy. Don't be nervous, if that's what's wrong."

Katniss' face lights up. "Thanks, Clove."

Clove let a grin slip. "Any time."

* * *

Cato sees a black car pull up in front of him as he sits at the bus stop he was dropped off at. He had only waited 15 minutes, and he was thankful for punctuality.

A man that looks to be in his mid 30's or 40's steps out and offers his hand to the teen, and Cato stares at it in confusion before shaking his hand. "Nazywam się Haymitch." _Finally, a Polish speaker. _{**Translation: **_My name is Haymitch._}

"Miło mi cię poznać, jestem Cato." Haymitch nods once, shooting him a smile. {**Translation: **_It's nice to meet you, I'm Cato._}

"Jesteś podekscytowany?" Haymitch asks as Cato grabs his suitcase, throwing it into the popped trunk before slamming it shut. {**Translation: **_Are you excited?_}

"Przypuszczam.." Cato sighs, slipping into the passenger's seat and shutting the door. He can feel the man's gaze on him. {**Translation:** _I suppose.._}

"Cóż, jesteśmy szczęśliwi, że mamy cię!" Haymitch cheers, then putting his keys into the ignition and firmly placing his hands on the wheel, preparing for the traffic ridden ride to the upper east side of the city. {**Translation:**_ Well, we're happy to have you!_}

* * *

Clove arrives home at the exact time she is supposed to, having picked up Jason from ASP after school. He drops his Batman backpack on the floor and asks his sister to help him get off his shoes, to which she rips the velcro and puts them next to his bag by the door.

She hangs her own school bag up properly, allowing herself a break before even touching her homework. She didn't have a lot tonight, it's not like she couldn't do it in 3 hours.

Jason has already sped off, and she follows slowly; making her way to the kitchen to get him his snack.

But she stops once she reaches the place where Jason has paused–at the archway to the living room. "Uncle Haymitch?" Clove says, still staring at the pale blonde boy sitting on the floor. "Who's your friend?" She looks at the boy, seeing his practically white skin, his bright blue eyes, and lightly colored blonde hair. If she didn't know any better, she'd say he was an albino.

Haymitch rises and strolls over to her, clapping a hand onto her shoulder. "This is Cato. He's an exchange student from Poland. He's starting college early, ABA, I think."

_That ballet college over by Julliard? This kid must be a prodigy. _"Oh. So.. what's he doing here?"

"He's going to live with us," Haymitch grins from ear to ear, and Clove's eyes widen.

"No no no no_ no_. He can_not_ stay here. Bad things happen when strangers move in, watch your movies." But her uncle just laughs, and turns to find Jason playing with the boy's hair.

"Can I have hair like this?!"

…

The foursome sits at the table, all the kids' eyes on the wooden texture as Clove rolls her waterbottle in her hand, Cato fumbles with his thumbs, and Jason flys an action figure around in front of him whilst making sound effects.

"Well, talk to each other!"

"Uncle Haymitch, he doesn't speak English."

"I'll translate him."

Clove lets out a thick breath, and sits up straight. "What's your favorite color?" "Clove, ask him something interesting, please. We need him to like us."

"Fine," She mumbles. "What was Poland like?"

Haymitch turns to the confused boy, asking the question in his language.

"Zimno." "Cold. He says it was cold."

Clove rolls her eyes. She could've answered that, and she's not even Polish. This kid was about as deep as a kiddie pool, as far as she could tell. "Okay, that's all I wanted to know."

Haymitch scowls.

"Uncle Haymitch?"

"What, Jason?"

Jason shares a weird glance with Cato, who looks flustered and looks back down at his lap. Clove raises an eyebrow, but lowers it quickly.

"Is Cato an alien?"

Haymitch looks up, as if the sky was going to provide an answer. Clove doesn't take her eyes off her new 'roommate', which seemed to make him uncomfortable.

"Technically, yes." The man answers.

Jason's eyes widen and he gasps, nearly knocking back his chair when he runs screaming and sobbing at the same time in a weird cry of fear. "There's an alien in our house!"

"Why would you tell him that?!" The brown eyed teen hisses at her uncle.

"I'm not gonna lie to him! He's foreign, so he's technically an alien."

Clove scowls. But then, it disappears because she got an idea. Probably one of the most brilliant ones she's had in awhile.

* * *

**This chapter is so horrible, but I'm half awake right now. I'm sorry! I had no idea how to introduce an exchange student :P Review, maybe..?**

**-Emma **


	5. Chapter 5

**I feel as though the story will get better now that Cato and Clove are in the same plot.. finally, more interesting chapters coming up! haha.**

**Hope you like this one!**

* * *

**_Are you ready, are you ready for this?_**

**_Are you hanging on the edge of your seat?_**

**_Out of the doorway the bullets rip_**

**_To the sound of the beat._**

**_-Another One Bites the Dust; Queen _**

* * *

Both men in the room could practically see the lightbulb appearing above Clove's head. Clove bites her smirking lip in excitement, standing from her chair.

Writing about a foreign exchange student is probably the most interesting thing that could be read in the school newspaper—at least, for her school.

Haymitch rolls his eyes and announces, "I'm going to go get some wine."

Once he's gone, Clove circles the table and stands next to Cato and smiles brightly. "Want to see where you'll be staying?"

He blinks. She gives him a deadpanning look.

Haymitch speaks up his spot digging the pantry. "Chcesz zobaczyć, gdzie będziesz pobyt?"

Clove growls under her breath, but her disappointment disappears when Cato stands.

"Great, let's go!" She gets out before dragging him off to her bedroom. She clutches his wrist so hard that he can feel the blood tingling in his hand. Why was she so excited?

He finds himself standing in a purple and grey room, much more colorful then his all white room. That all white room with a rickety wooden bed and the white-brick walls and the one rectangular window that didn't look like it had a place in the room at all. The only thing that had added color to his room was the pink ballet shoes that had hid in one lonely, dusty corner.

_Her _room (he hadn't quite caught her name yet) had grey walls and purple bedding, and a large purple book shelf corvering the entire left wall. Books galore covered each shelf and even more books stacked in all corners.

She had a day bed, one painted lavender, and he thought it looked even more welcoming under the comfort of the large window.

Outside, there was the corner of the block as her house was on the end, and people speed by on their bicycles and some on skateboards. Taxis cross and fall leaves blow on the dull streets, but any view was better than those nasty rat-faced twins laughing at him from across the way.

Below her bed there was _another_ bed, he finds out as she pulls out the bunk underneath. "This is yours." She points to it. "I would've made you sleep on the couch or in Jay's room, but you don't seem all that bad. As long as you don't try anything."

She then pauses suddenly, tensing up and turning her face over her shoulder. "You.. _won't.. _try anything, will you?"

He had no idea what she said, but he recognized the fear in her tone and quickly shook his head.

She stands back up, wiping off the knees of her baggy grey sweatpants and whipping around to face him. Her shoulder-length waves of hair nearly hit his face and he crinkles his nose, backing away.

She smiles, but it wasn't really a nice smile he decides, it looked fake—like when that weird jazz teacher would smile at him and tell him he was trying too hard to keep his knees straight. She had been such a bitch.

Cato frowns at _her_.

She furrows her brow. "What?"

"Why do not be nice?"

She tries harder to smile, but it's not the same. Does she know how to smile?

"Uśmiechnij się!" He demonstrates a proper grin, and she tilts her head, trying out the bright smirk on his face. {**Translation: **_Cheer up!_}

He shakes his head and scowls because she's getting it all wrong.

She tries harder, but then comes to her senses. "You shouldn't be teaching me how to smile! In order to smile, there has to be something to smile about." She babbles while pacing around the room.

She is startled by bags being thrown beside the door frame.

"Surprised you're gonna let'im stay," Haymitch smirks and Clove crosses her arms.

"Where else would you plan on putting him?"

"Glad you care, Clover." Her uncle winks when Clove's mouth drops, but he leaves before she can't make a point of 'I don't care.'

Cato sits on the slightly flimsy bed he's been addressed to, and finds it's much more comfy and softer than his. Something hard pokes into the bottom of his thigh and he reaches down to find a plastic, broken, sparkly hand-comb from some sort of Barbie hairstyling head. A few of its prongs are broken off and it has been bedazzled by a little girl. Clove snatches it up from his hand and stuffs it into the deep pocket of her pants.

He finds a few more knick-knacks in the bed, including an old, crumpled magazine from a company called _American Girl _with an advertisement of some red-headed doll Felicity Merriman right on the front. He also uncovers an empty M&M packet and a few tickets from some sort of arcade, as well as a tube of lipstick for little girls.. nothing professional.

Clove had never really cleaned that bed, so everything that went in there stayed in there.

She walks to the door and prepares to go to her office. She needs to gather her things if she's going to execute this the way she wants.

She decides to let him entertain himself with the random baubles and that one magazine, at least it made him sit still long enough for her to know he wouldn't be missing by the time she returned to her room.

…

Cato hears the snap of the camera as Clove catches a picture of him in this awkward moment where he plays with random things from her pullout bunk.

Once she has a proper photo, she sets down her camera and begins to write a mere rough-draft of what she wants.

The callus on her thumb stings angrily, begging her _no more writing! _but she doesn't care. This needs to be written.

Cato watches Clove write, hearing the scrawl of the pen against lined paper and seeing her nose wrinkle when she scribbles out mistakes.

He liked focusing on the sounds more than the sights because the sound stayed with him for longer. It was how he chose to remember things. He also recalled smell—like the smell of his kindergarten classroom (hand-soap, paste, and that cold, wet silly putty.)

It seems like the most useless things are the things he remembers the most.

Clove writes this article with a passion; though it is only an introduction, she wants to interest the readers and 'reel them in' as her uncle says. She peeks up every now and then, finding Cato watching her as if he's waiting for her to address him with a task.

It's such an awkward stare and she doesn't know what to make of it. Her brain turns into mashed potatoes all of a sudden.. hot and mushy from confusion.

This kid is freaking her out!

"What?" She startles him and watches as he flinches.

His mouth moves but his voice is caught in his throat, and she furrows her brow.

"Tired." She wants to ask why, but then remembers the six hour difference. For him, it would be around 10:30 if he was still in Poland.

"Then sleep." She shrugs, returning to her work. From the corner of her vision she can see him getting under the thin covers and eventually hunkering down. He shuts his eyes and curls up in a near fetal position, she decides he can't possibly be warm enough.

She ignores it, and resumes her previous occupation.

* * *

Jason keeps the flashlight firm in his tiny hand, shivering as the sun goes down and dips behind the big city buildings so that only an orange glow is there. He whimpers when an owl calls out in the night, and shuffles further into the alleyway.

He then puts on a brave face and stomps on, crushed leaves and trash smashing beneath his sneaker covered feet. He shifts his beige fishing hat further onto his head, the shade covering half his face and the fake, colorful worms and silver hooks on it rustling.

The sun goes even further down, nestling down into the sky and being replaced by the moon, surrounded by milky darkness and stars. It was now 6:30, his bedtime was in 2 hours. He needs to find shelter, and fast.

Between a couple of trash cans is where he resides, covering his body in the table cloth he'd nicked from the cabinet. He leans his head against the wall and pops open his juice box, sticking in the straw.

He digs into his backpack, taking out the thermos he had packed with warm ramen noodles in it. He smiles and weaves his white plastic fork around the noodles, slurping them into his mouth and feeling his stomach growl in approval. He wishes he'd stayed for dinner, but they would've ended up eating ramen anyway.

Jason nearly spills the contents on himself when two shiny, beady eyes look at him from behind a trash can across the way.

He stops chewing and twists the cap back onto his thermos, sticking it into his bag quickly and scooting back further into the wall.. wishing it would evaporate him in and he would be back hom–no. He didn't want to be back home, not with the alien!

Clove had watched a scary movie on aliens once and Jason was not getting eaten by an alien _tonight_. Not ever, if he could avoid it.

He shrugs his coat tighter to him, shifting it up his neck to cover his mouth and nose like it was camouflaging him. But the creature he was facing was still there, blinking before revealing its frightening eyes again, then scampering off.

Jason squeals when it passes him and scrambles back into the trash can beside him, creating a loud sound as he rubs his head in pain fromt he blow. "Ow!"

A ray of light shines his way. "Jason?" It was Uncle Haymitch. "Little buddy, was that you?"

Jason sighs. "I'm over here."

Haymitch turns to the quiet voice and rushes into the semi-dark alley, his mouth dropping in relief when he finds his nephew curled in between two trash cans.

"What are you _doing _out here, Jay?" He crouches down to the boy's level.

"I ran away 'cause there's an alien in our house."

Haymitch decides to deal with that once his nephew is safe in the house. "How are you surviving?"

"A juice box, my coat, ramen noodles, and a shadow puppet named Hombre Umbra." Jason announces. The man nods rationally. "Seems reasonable to me.. but do you have chocolate cake with you?"

Jason perks up. "No." He shakes his head.

"Shame.. I would give some to you, but it's all the way back at the ho–" Jason is on his feet instantly, grabbing his uncle's wrist and pulling him out of the alleyway.

"Why didn't you say so, let's go!"

…

Jason sits in his room, feeling guilty about not being welcoming Cato—_who isn't an alien—_and he decides to say sorry.

He slowly walks to his sister's room, peeking through the door. He sees Clove scribbling in her notebook, biting one corner of her lip as her hand moves way too fast.

She hardly notices when he walks in and nears Cato, not realizing he's sleeping until he gets close enough. "Why's he sleeping? It's 7:00!"

"There's a six hour difference he's trying to adjust to, Jay. Let him sleep." Clove mumbles easily, not pausing her writing. Jason blinks and then gives a short sigh. "He looks cold."

_I thought so too, _Clove thinks. "Sure he's used to it."

The 5 year old scowls at her. "If I were him, I wouldn't really like you as a room-buddy."

"Mutual."

The boy just shook his head, the fishing hat that was still sitting upon his head making tiny noises. His tiny, sticky hands grab the edge of Clove's thick purple comforter, and he walks back to pull the heavy blanket over the sleeping teenager.

"Goodnight!" He says cheerfully, and leaves Clove's room to return to his own, feeling as though he's done the right thing.

* * *

Cato is dancing on stage, something he does often. Except this time he was alone, there was no one else. Not even an audience. Just him, standing in the bright lights out on stage.

The music begins to play. He knows this piece, it's that dance his teacher worked him to do all his life until he was ready.

He raises his arms and prepares for the beginning, but when it comes his feet can't move. His eyes shoot open and suddenly he's less relaxed. He tries moving them and then he can't move at all. He can't look down but he's falling, sinking, seeping into the floor and then there's an audience and they're laughing. A loud crescendo of laughter that mocks him and all his training.

He was a dance prodigy since he was 8, and suddenly those advanced natural abilities had been swiped from him and then the thick red curtain shields him from the crowd and he can move again.

"Cato?" Someone calls from backstage. It's his mother.

He tries calling to her, but his voice is only a silent sound of nothing. Almost as if he's trying to scream but he's being strangled.

But at least he can run to her. But, her voice stays the same distance away from him each step. And she calls and calls and calls.

"Cato, Cato?" Her voice as sweet as May, but it cracks on the last syllable and then she screams his name. There's a loud pop-like sound and he knows what it is but at the same time he doesn't. It flusters him and he's running again.

"Cato!" But it's not her voice.

His eyes open and he finds himself covered in sweat, in that purple and grey room, with Clove peering over the edge of her bed at him. Her eyes are squinted and her hair is pulled out of her face by a clip, and she looks confused and a bit annoyed, honestly.

Cato takes a deep breath, rolling in the bed and deciding to sleep on his side so she can sleep again. He wasn't tired anymore, he was fully rested. And it bothers him that he has to sit here in the dark.. in silence.. for the next hours while Clove sleeps.

"Bad dream, huh?"

He nods.

"Wanna talk about it?" He would love to talk about it. But he can't, so he shakes his head and she understands, laying back down.

He tries to go back to bed, but he ends up just rolling on each side to try and get comfortable; creating restless rustling noises all around. It's no use, he's not tired.

Luckily, she sits up in her bed. "You can't sleep, can you?" He stares at her.

She growls in annoyance, what did he do?

"You," She points at him. "Can't," She shakes her head. "Sleep," Her hands sandwich to one side of her head and she leans it to the side, then slaps her hands on the bed.

He shakes his head.

She yawns, stretching her arms and then slowly climbing out of bed. He gazes up at her in confusion as she slips on rainboots and a coat. "C'mon." She mumbles.

He slowly stands and then puts on his own jacket, deciding to go barefoot.. his feet don't really feel things anymore.

But Clove's eyes widen at Cato's feet. His toes have skin peeling off of them, they're crushed into tucked and folded over position, and nasty scars are ripping from them. His toe nails are cracked and whiter than his bloched red feet, and she swears there are even purple spots here and there on the flesh.

"What the _hell_?" She squeals quietly.

"Ballet," He chuckles.

"I thought only the girls get bad feet?!"

He shakes his head. "Chłopcy nie tańczy en pointe na scenie, ale chłopcy praktyka en pointe do równowagi i mieć kontrolę mięśni nóg." {**Translation: **_Boys do not dance en pointe on the stage, but the boys practice en pointe to balance and be in control of leg muscles._}

Cato remembers his years of practicing in pointe shoes.. they were awful. His feet hurt and all the boys complained, but the instructor advised they try it to increase strength. Now, he enjoyed pointe quite a bit; but his feet would never go back to normal.

Clove stares at him with a wide mouth. "No habla Polish."

Cato raises an eyebrow, but the brunette just shakes her messy head of frizzy hair. "Whatever, c'mon. If you're going to keep me awake then we might as well go somewhere interesting for you to keep me awake at. Good thing school's not tomorrow." She gestures for him to come with her down the hallway, and finds that she is going toward the front door.

Where was she planning to go?

…

Clove looks at her feet as they walk down the street. Cato walks behind her, looking shocked by every sight they pass. She gives her signature eye roll. It must've been _really _rural in Poland, or something of that sort.

Soon enough, they come across the staircase that leads down below the streets and she grabs his hand, yanking him down those steps before he can wander off.

The subway is filled with men holding their hats out begging for money, some only holding their hand out and Cato gets as close to Clove as possible. Does she not realize how vulnerable they look in their pajamas just walking through some sort of train station?

"Relax, Cato. Jeesh." Clove breathes as they turn the tile-covered corner, finding a bunch of business men standing there with their phones; waiting to go to work.

Clove sits down on a bench and pats the spot next to her. Cato sits down and pulls his knees to his chest, trying to keep warm in the cold weather.

Clove watches as his breath curls in front of him and she yawns again, why did she even do this? She was exhausted.

Part of her said that she wanted to sneak out of the house and go out into the city for once, but another part of her said that she wanted him to like her and think that she was a good person; something people never really labelled her as.

She didn't know that he already thought that since she welcomed him into her home.. her room, even.

Minutes later, a loud squealing sound is heard and Clove sees a light at the end of the tracks. The subway was always so loud, it was annoying.

When the train stops in front, people are rushing in to fight for good seats, but luckily Clove can slip both her and Cato through the doors to sit down so they don't have to stand.

She scowls as more and more people cram into the tiny area, and the doors eventually seal shut so no one else can get through.

In front of them, a woman carrying a baby and holding the hand of a three year old stands, looking stressed as she tries to calm the crying child in her arms while keeping her toddler firm in her grip. She carries multiple bags at her sides and is slumping slightly, Clove raises her eyebrows.

The woman nearly falls back when the subway starts to move, but a business man catches her and props her back up before she can.. Clove felt thankful, because she was not in the mood to be squashed into her seat by someone toppling onto her.

The baby's cries echo all over the now moving subway and the mother tries to quiet it as people stare her way.

Cato feels bad for the woman. She reminds him of his mother, and that alone makes him stand to tap her shoulder. The woman flinches and turns around, the black crescents under her eyes more visible than ever.

He points to the seat he was once in, and she looks at him. "Oh! Thank you, thank you so much." She waddles over with a relived smile, sitting herself down and rocking the child she carries.

Cato lifts her bags and places them next to her, watching as she gives him a warm, thankful smile. He smiles back, but it disappears when he notices her toddler has no where to sit.

His eyes shoot to Clove, who looks at him in confusion. "What?"

"Up," He tells her.

"What?!"

"Up!"

Clove wishes Cato wasn't such an essentially good person. She stands begrudgingly, and the toddler smiles up at her, revealing missing teeth and a cute grin.

"Thank you!" He squeaks and sits down, making her heart warm. She had always imagined giving up priveleges she has for others who needed it more, but never really thought of actually doing it.

Cato pats her head; funny gesture in her mind.

…

Clove sees the lights sparkling in Cato's eyes as he gazes up and down and all around, and she's relieved the streets are fairly empty besides a few wanderers here and there. Crowds? No.

She crosses her arms and watches as Cato admires the bright sight shining down on him. He's having the same reaction as everyone who visits Times Square for the first time.

"Pretty nice, yeah?" She says without any emotion at all.

Cato just nods, and then looks back at her before tearing off with a wide smile.

"Hey! Wait!" Clove was falling on her feet as she ran, rubber boots hurt to run in and she already wasn't a stable runner. She used to be, but being a runner isn't something she was working for.

"Wait up!" She yells, huffing in disppointment before she bends down, yanking off her boots and then proceeding to run. Her feet smack against the street and he splashes into a puddle like some little kid. He inadvertantly gets water on her before running away, this time more in fear.

"Goddammit you!" She cries angrily, but laughs a little to herself.

That was the first thing Clove learned about foreign exchange students. They can change the tiniest things about you without even knowing it.. and, without _you _knowing it.

* * *

**haha.. I always enjoy tedious chapters like these that sets the tone for a relationship. They don't exactly have an incredible bond yet, but it's still decent and at least they don't hate each other. :)**

**-Emma**


	6. Chapter 6

**Okay.. this chapter was a bit of a filler, but it does have some important parts, so i didn't technically flunk it. **

**I'm just trying to draw it out before Cato and Clove get closer; I want them to go pretty slow, because that's how relationship building works. :)**

**Hope you like this! **

* * *

**_The first cut is the deepest_**

**_Baby I know_**

**_The first cut is the deepest_**

**_But when it comes to being lucky, he's cursed_**

**_When it comes to loving me, he's worst_**

**_–The First Cut Is The Deepest; Sheryl Crow_**

* * *

Clove feels a tiny finger poking her to wake in the morning, but she remains motionless with her face stuffed into a pillow and her limbs sprawled out around her.

"She's _dead_!" Jason's voice yells, but Clove still doesn't move to confirm she is very much alive. She was way too tired and it was way too early. How could reality do this to her?

"She's not _dead,_" Haymitch mutters next. "But she's usually an early riser, it's 12:00 in the morning.." _12:00 in the morning?! _Now Clove is wide awake. "It's 12:00 already?! Why didn't you wake me earlier?!"

"We tried, but it was like trying to move a mountain." Haymitch laughs, shrugging and leaving her room. Jason then tugs on her arm, bouncing happily in excitement. "Look! Look, you have to come see!" He says urgently, nearly dragging her onto the floor.

Clove groans, rubbing her eyes as he pulls her clumsily out of bed. "Come on!"

"Okay, I'm coming! Jesus.."

Once he manages to bring her to the living room, she looks to see Cato holding a little grey kitten in one hand, petting its fur gently.

"We got a pet cat off the street!" Jason jumps and then flies onto the sofa beside the blue-eyed teenager, gazing at the sleeping fluff-ball. It looks like a grey tabby cat to her, with the striping and mild coloring difference blended in.

Clove keeps her lips parted and her brow furrowed. "Every time I come in here, I'm confused."

Cato puts the tiny kitten on the floor, and she watches as it moves its choppy little legs, then falling over. Cato looks disappointed, and picks up the kitten to inspect its clumsy foot. Jason looks too, gasping animatedly and pointing at the splinter in its paw. "Splinter! Clovey, get the tweezers!" But Cato takes out the splinter with ease, fluffing the kitten's ears lovingly after.

"Where did you get that thing?"

"Cato found it." Jason says, picking up the tiny kitty and stroking its fur. "We were thinking of a name, what do you think?"

Haymitch takes a sip of his wine before speaking once more. "I said we should name it Effie like that funky woman over in Chinatown, but Jason said no and Cato didn't say anything so I took it as a no."

Clove studies the kitten, plucking its ear gently and nodding. "His name is Smoky."

"Wha–"

"It's name is Smoky." Clove says firmly. Cato looks up at her and smiles, expressing without words how he finds the name to be good for the kitten and she nods once. For some reason, after looking at his eyes for the first time, she feels small. His eyes are so big with.. imagination? Liveliness? Wonder? She could know every positive adjective in the world and there was _no word _she could use to describe his otherworldly irises.

Jason tilts his head as if comtemplating the name, but then he shakes his head and scrunches his face. "No, his name should be Princess Beyoncé." He giggles afterwards, seemingly amused at what he'd just said.

Clove wonders how her little brother even knows about Beyoncé in the first place, but then the gears turn in her head. "Uncle Haymitch, did you show him that music video?"

"Why show him one, when I can show him, them all?"

"Uncle Haymitch, are you kidding me? His music stylings should be strictly set in Disney Junior songs."

"What are you, his mother?" _Yes,_ Clove thinks, then letting her uncle continue."You watched Dreamgirls when you were young and that had Beyoncé in it." Haymitch shrugs it off, not sure what his niece was overreacting about.

* * *

Cato sits alone in Clove's room, all alone—well, alone with his kitten. Smoky likes him a little too much, maybe it was because he gave it food and water and a warm bed.

His large hand moves over the kitten's soft coat as then it stretches, opening its mouth wide to reveal a pink tongue before curling up on the purple duvet.

Cato grins down at his new pet and then pulls out his cellphone, something he loathes but he really needs to contact his mother—and Annie, if he got the chance.

"Synu, to ty?" His mother's voice crackles over the phone. {**Translation: **_Son, is that you?_}

"Tak, jest. Tu jestem. Jak się masz?" He asks, happy to have heard her for the first time in 48 hours. Considering he's been with her his entire life and most of his time was spent with her, for him to be an ocean away from her until Summer, _it's a long time. _{**Translation: **_Yes, it is. I'm here. How are you?_}

"Jestem.. okay." But Cato knew his mother. By the sound of her voice, she wasn't okay. It had wavered, shivered, something was wrong. {**Translation: **_I'm.. okay._}

"Matko, czy jesteś pewien, że jesteś w porządku?" {**Translation: **_Mother, are you sure you're okay?_}

He hears peculiar sounds in the background, and furrows his brow when a shuffling is heard on the other end of the line.

"Przestań martwić się o mnie! Jestem w porządku!" She says firmly into the phone, but there's a loud crash in the background and he doesn't know what to do. He's not there, he can't see anything. {**Translation: **_Stop worrying about me! I'm okay!_}

He can hear loud footsteps down that narrow staircase, crashing onto the rickety wood and then there's a crack. What isn't she telling him?

The line goes dead suddenly, and he's left to stare at his kitten in confusion.

Annie doesn't pick up and neither does the emergency number for the rat-faced twins. Is everyone avoiding him, or something?

He throws his phone back into the bag and huffs, petting the kitten again. It meows at him, as if saying something to him; trying to communicate.. _just like him_...

Cato felt locked out now. By Americans because he_ can't_ talk to them until he learns proper English, and by his own Polish family and friends because there's something they're not telling him.

The only person left to talk to was that little girl he knew now, Rue. So he emails her, using the nearly washed out email address on the back of his hand and feeling thankful it was still there.

* * *

"I like the pink one on you," Johanna says and Clove stops shuffling through dresses to look at her friend.

"Did you say, 'the pink one'?" Clove asks lowly.

"Yeah, you've always looked nice in pink."

Johanna shows her the dress. The top part of the dress was loose and bunched up on a tiny seam when it met the skirt. The skirt itself was flowy with thin pleats in it that showed wrinkles and light creases when the dress twirled, and the entire dress was only being held up had 2 and a half inch-wide straps. It doesn't fit for a high school band gig at a cheap pizza place, and most of all it doesn't fit Clove's personality.

The brunette shakes her head. "It looks like Glinda the Good Witch came and threw up all over a piece of fabric from the department store."

"It's not that cheap," Johanna scoffs, hanging the dress back on the rack.

Just then, Clove smiles softly and pulls out a dress. It was all black and had a sweetheart neckline, and lacy short-sleeves that covered her shoulders but still showed some shoulder flesh underneath. It was a tube dress and the lace covered every inch of it, the black dress underneath the dark lace covering covering the parts of her that needed covering all the way down to just above her knees.

"I kinda like this one."

Johanna gapes at the dress, but then swipes it up. "This is for me, you pick another."

"Johanna!"

"Nope! Pick another! A girl like me only finds the perfect dress once in a lifetime, girls like you find them in thrift stores because girl, you can make a trashbag look cute."

Clove huffs and rips out another dress, looking at it briefly before shaking her head and going down the line.

It was no use. She didn't like dresses in the first place, and the only one she could've worn with vomiting in self-loathing was in the shopping bag of her best friend.

Not caring anymore, Clove grabs the pink dress.

…

Johanna and Clove stop when they see the movie theatre. Clove hasn't been here since 2006. Too many ugly memories that haunted her day in and day out.

"I've got to say, there are no good movies out beside that one about the mom. That looks pretty damn awesome."

"You mean _Mama?_" Clove raises an eyebrow.

"Yeah, that one."

But before they can walk away and head toward a taxi, someone calls their names.

They turn to find Katniss coming her way, weaving through the crowd at a quick pace.

"What are _you_ doing here, Everdeen?" Clove asks her in amusement; it was funny to see the girl falter in public like always.

"I was coming to see a movie with my stepdad, but he bailed on me so now I'm all alone." Katniss rolls her eyes.

Johanna has a weird face now. "Wait, your stepdad legit ditched you?" Katniss nods. "He does it a lot, apparently his friends are more fun than me." She laughs, but Clove can hear the pain in it.

"So when I saw you guys, I was thinking that.. maybe we could go see one?"

The brown-eyed teen raises her eyebrows. Everything is quiet between them, except for the sounds of people walking by and cars honking and the occasional conversation here or there.

"_Fine_, we'll go see a movie with you. But it's gonna be the scary one, cool?" Johanna says before Clove actually gets a chance to relent, and then the 3 girls walk into the theatre—one more awkwardly than the others.

The cool air of the inside hits her, and Clove smells buttery popcorn and remembers what that one day was like. It made her nervous, scared even because she didn't want to remember what it was like.

…

Somehow as the 3 girls walk through Central Park, each with popsicles of different colors; Clove notices that the conversation has somehow went from the pros and cons about the movie to the long tale of Johanna's 'love'life. _That escalated quickly, _she thinks.

"That's a lot of one night stands, Hanna." Clove mutters, sticking her red popsicle in her mouth again. For once she was happy she was a virgin, so she could avoid having an opinion and a _story _in a conversation like this.

"I was very depressed after my boyfriend broke up with me, of course it was a lot of people."

Katniss chuckles lowly, giving her purple popsicle a mild lick. "At least you can afford to do that."

Clove furrows her brow. "What the hell does that mean? You can't have sex, or something?" The grey-eyed girl bites her lip gently and sighs, shaking her head. "No, that's not it.."

Johanna presses her lips together, giving a rational frown much like fish-lips.

"I have had sex, once. But.." Clove prepares for the word pregnant, but it doesn't come. Katniss swallows and then sucks in a breath, holding it for only a moment before resuming speaking. ".. you know, there are people that do that all the time and.. the one time I try it, I.." Katniss smacks her forehead, rubbing it down her face. "It's complicated."

"Well, he must've_ really_ been something if it's that hard to explain." Johanna tries making a joke and both girls laugh lightly.

"Yeah.. he was something alright." Katniss mumbles, nodding and gazing at her feet as if thinking—contemplating.

…

"What's in the bag? Is it something for me?" Jason bounces up to her, his cape jerking rapidly behind him.

"_When _have I ever bought something for you unless it's Christmas or your birthday?" Clove smirks with a silent laugh at her baby brother's deprived face. Jason frowns and stomps away. "I never get anything I want."

* * *

Cato didn't expect a book to fall on his head as he walks round Clove's room, exploring the many parts of her room.

It was a long, worn, leather brown book. On the front read 'Clove's Scrapbook' spelled from magazine letter cutouts, each variable a different font, size, and style. He opens the first page, half expecting for it to be blank because Clove didn't seem like a scrapbooker. Clove was very conservative in his mind; her memories were her own and there was no reason to put them in a book.

The first page has a picture of a baby girl sleeping in a bundle of pink blankets, a bit of brunette hair on her head. The baby was tiny and had a round, soft blob for a nose, as well as pudgy newborn skin and cute little hands.

It was so cute and innocent, Cato found it hard to believe it was Clove.

Taped beside the picture was a hospital bracelet that was the size of a baby's, then another one the size of an adult's.

They each had different labels.

_Kentwell, Clove : Female : Room 344_

_9/18/1997 2:23 AM : 6 1/2 lb. 19 in._

_Kentwell, Katrina : Female_

_Room 344 : Age 27_

Cato never saw Clove's mother around. Or father, for that matter.

He looks over to the next page and there's pictures of the brunette in a stroller, playing in a sandbox, and walking around Long Island with her mother. And she's smiling wide so that her eyes are nearly squinted and her teeth are shining in the light, and he decides _that's_ a nice smile, unlike the one she possesses now.

The next pages are filled with many more pictures of apartments, Clove holding baby Jason, other weird memories like being at a baseball stadium and Clove walking down the aisle as an angelic flower girl at a wedding, and then suddenly the parents aren't a part of the book anymore. Now, Haymitch is with them.

The last pages are filled with Clove and some boy. Them at a birthday party, her riding on his back like he's a horse, and them looking at each other through each side of a window, _she has a boyfriend. _

This was another thing Cato found interesting. Clove didn't seem like she liked people in general, let alone boys and she didn't seem like the kind to have a boyfriend. He really underestimated her and—

"What are you doing?!"

* * *

**Hmm.. I did some funky things with this chapter, but most answers won't be revealed until later. :P **

**So, what do you think is up with Katniss? I'd love to hear your thoughts, if it's not too much trouble. **

**Hope you liked it! **

**-Emma**


	7. Chapter 7

**Wow so this story is actually really effed up now that I read back, but who cares? I don't! :D**

**... yes, make sure to read the last author's note. It's sorta important, I guess. **

* * *

_**Run run runaway, runaway baby**_

_**Before I put my spell on you**_

_**You better get get get away get away darling**_

_**'Cause everything you heard is true**_

_**Your poor little heart will end up alone**_

_**'Cause Lord knows I'm a rolling stone**_

_**So you better run run runaway runaway baby**_

_**-Runaway Baby; Bruno Mars**_

* * *

Cato feels a tiny hand whack his head and Clove's scrapbook wilts from his hands, slamming onto the floor. He turns around to find Jason standing there.

"What are you doin' looking in Clove's book of special secrets?!"

Cato opens his mouth to speak, but Jason continues to rant.

"If I'm not allowed to look in it, nobody is!"

The teen gets hit in the head again, this time mulitple times until he grabs Jason's wrist and pushes it away in confusion.

"Clovey's gonna be so mad!"

"Mad about what?" Clove suddenly walks into her room with a shopping bag and 3D glasses flipped up on top of her head, stumbling to her colorless closet. She just throws the shopping bag in there, abandoning it until she seems to change her mind, fidgeting and going back to organize it.

Jason gasps in a breath to talk but a large hand covers his mouth before he can. Cato wasn't ready to face Clove's wrath (which he knew was deadly, even if he hadn't experienced it.) He had just gotten here, it would be uncomfortable to already be on her 'list.'

Clove raises one eyebrow, and the room is still; like a lone glass of water.

Cato grimaces awkwardly when Clove stares at him expectantly. Jason rolls his eyes and then walks out of the room, fists clenched and grumbling about something dumb.

The brunette takes off her coat and neatly hangs it up on her coat rack, all the while throwing her bag up there.

Cato quickly shoves away her scrapbook; though he'd have to look more at it when he was alone here. Which was more often then not.

Clove kneels down quietly, gently scrubbing Smoky's head with her hand. She smiles softly when the kitten mewls at her, walking on new wobbly legs and climbing onto her thighs.

"Yow!" She yelps when it's tiny but not-so blunt claws dig through her sweatpants and into her flesh. She pick the kitten up in her hands, giggling slightly and petting down its fur.

She liked the little cat now. It was cute and no matter how hostile she wanted to be about 'I don't want a pet' she knew deep inside she did want a companion, even if it was something that was as big as her foot.

"So," She stood, whirling around to face Cato. He looks startled. The kid was a freak to her. _A hot freak, _her mind muttered, and she snickered. Yeah, he was good-looking. There wasn't any denying it. But she learned not to waste her time on boys.

"You hungry?"

Cato shakes his head. Clove raises her eyebrows. "You haven't eaten anything but a vegetarian frozen meal and a fruit cup since you got here."

"Healthy," He mutters with a slight smile. Clove raises an eyebrow, glancing down at his form. Half his weight seemed to be muscle.

The blue-eyed teen sees her looking at him in slight disdain, he growls under his breath.

…

_The words, they hurt more than anything. They were loud, especially loud in the auditorium—did she really have to yell? _

_She told Annie her footwork was off, but that was only because Annie sprained her ankles the other day in class. Annie's footwork was never off and Cato felt bad for his best friend as she twirled and twirled, her face flustered and nervous; her white tutu skimming the air quickly. _

_Cato prepared to jump out from behind the red velvet curtain, putting his arms on his sides and crossing the left leg in front of the right, standing tall. He was ready. He watched Annie, waiting for her to near him. _

_Annie was always so calm in her pointe shoes, so serious; nobody liked Annie more than when she was dancing. But today, she looked as if it were her least favorite place to be. _

_She went faster and faster, probably tearing the satin of her shiny pale pink shoes, but the instructor kept ordering her like some slave until slam._

_Cato's heart stopped as Annie hit the floor, her head smacking against the stage right as he was going to leap out and catch her so they could begin their piece together; she had tripped over her battered and bruised ankle and tumbled over. _

_The other dancers laughed as she silently cried. Annie was sensitive and Cato hated seeing her like this. _

_She kept her head down and her palms propped her up in front of her, her legs curled behind her. He kneeled down next to her and tried to help her back up, but she held her hand out; signalling 'stop.' _

_He watched as she sobbed, because that was all he could do when Annie was stressed or saddened or embarrassed or on the rare occasion, angry. He couldn't do anything except bring her somewhere where they were alone. _

_Cato took Annie home. _

_He carefully undressed her when they were back in her room, putting her dance clothes aside and slipping her into her pyjamas. She didn't give a shit if he saw her in her underwear or naked, even. The feeling was mutual. Seeing all the pictures as childhood friends in a bathtub together took away the non-trustful feelings._

_He dolled her up in her favorite cat pyjamas, making her crack a small but sad smile as he shoved her stuffed cat into her arms. It's name was Katya the 1st, and he remembered that not because he simply knew everything about Annie but because she said the stuffed animal's name all 15 minutes of the trip coming back from the mall when they were kids. _

_He took the bobbypins out of her bun, watching it fall into a ponytail down her back and then proceeded to take that out too. _

_Her hair lay in unruly tresses of dark brown hair, the underneath layer colored a beautiful coral. Annie wanted to be different, and that's exactly what she did with the wacky hair dye. _

"_Jestem szczęśliwy, dla ciebie, były świetne," Annie croaked as she laid on her bed, clutching her stuffed cat to her chest. _{**Translation: **_I'm happy for you, you were great._}

"_To nie jest o mnie," Cato said, laying beside her and shaking his head. "Dobrze się czujesz?" _{**Translation: **_This is not about me, are you okay?_}

"_Biorąc pod uwagę, że złamałem kostkę przed górnym instruktor baletu i nie może tańczyć moją część, więc teraz są skazani Sadowy jako partnera, nie, ja nie jestem w porządku." Annie muttered, still choking a bit on her words from the lump in her throat._

{**Translation: **_Given I have just broke my ankle in front of the top ballet instructor and now cannot dance my part so you are stuck with Sadowy as a partner, no; I am not okay._}

_Cato laughed lightly when Annie rolled over and slammed one of his heavy arms over her so she was carefully tucked into his side, he held her hand. _

"_Evangeline myśli, że jestem z nadwagą. Powiedziała mi, że właśnie dlatego nie mogę już dłużej utrzymać się jak właściwego baletnicy. Co o tym myślisz?" Annie said softly, glancing up at him. _

{**Translation: **_Evangeline thinks I'm overweight. She told me that is why I can no longer keep up like a proper ballerina. What do you think?_}

_He gave her a smile and hugged her closer, "Myślę, że jesteś doskonały właśnie taki jesteś." _

{**Translation: **_I think you're perfect just the way you are._}

_Annie didn't answer. At first he thought it was because she was upset, but she had only fell asleep. _

_He was tired himself, but even then when he thought about Annie's horrific fall he was worried. Not as much worried about her—she would be fine, always—but now worried about.. himself? The up-bringing of 'not being able to keep up' frightened him now, he was always able to keep up. He couldn't let it slip away because of a simple mistake, could he?_

_He fell asleep. _

…

"Must be healthy." He mumbles.

_But you're hardly eating at all, _Clove thinks absentmindedly. Caring about it came out of nowhere she wanted to be; she quickly walked away from the thought because he was fine.

"Yeah, yeah. Don't get your tights in a bunch," Cato puckers his forehead with an almost hurt look and Clove rolls her eyes. "I know you're a determined dancer going to ABA and that's pretty tough shit, so I understand wanting to keep your body, but trust me it's not going anywhere with all the training your gonna be doing. I think we'd need to worry about me, I sit in the school's basement all day." She scoffs jokingly.

The blonde looks at her with a calculating gaze and again, she felt small. Dwindling, shrinking. No one has ever looked at her like that, and if they did she didn't ever notice.

"Stop it." She growls.

Cato glances away from her, she wasn't very nice to him anymore. He didn't feel welcomed, he felt on edge. And when he was on edge, pretty much everyone was on edge. It's not that Cato was normally laidback and people feared him otherwise, he really wasn't all that relaxed.

Clove was fairly upset. She needed to get him out of the house more if she was going to pull this off, but he didn't seem to agree.

"Look, New York pizza is the best, you have to try it at least."

…

The pizza parlor was tiny and really sucked in decor, but the most run down places always had the best food. The ones with the door falling off its hinges and the table wobbling and the chairs those ugly 50's diner things. They were always the best, Clove knew.

She eats her pizza fast and takes long swigs of soda, Cato just stares at her. Horrified and disgusted would be the wrong choice of words, taken aback would be correct. Clove was such a petite girl, but she could really pack some food if she wanted.

She's had a one and a half helpings of chocolate milkshake and 4 pieces of pizza. Cato hadn't even started eating, he was too amused by how funny she looked when stuffing her face.

"Do you want some grated cheese with that, ma'am?" The waiter asks, staring at the girl in confusion and slight disgust.

"I'm fine, thanks."

The waiter nods and turns to the blonde teenager, looking him in the eyes. "Is the food alright, sir?"

Cato thinks the man is way too colorful. His hair is.. blue? Everyone was blonde over in Poland—well, the ones he knew of. He liked it better in his own country, he was more used to its whims.

"He thinks it's fine, Caesar. Go back to your job."

The man nods and walks back to the kitchen, mumbling something that Cato can't decipher.

Eventually, Clove is relieved to see the blonde actually begins to cut up a piece of pizza, eating it with a fork.

"You can eat it with your han—" She begins but he pauses her, waving his hand in front of her face.

He chews the food between his teeth, making a confused face because it doesn't taste like real pizza from Italy; where his mother once took him on a trip.

This pizza doesn't show the sauce and is instead covered in thick, gloppy cheese and the crust is paper thin. He felt if he picked it up, everything would slip right off.

"I guess sicilian style is more your speed," Clove counters, shrugging and pulling out her laptop—does everyone carry these around? He uses his, but not as often as these people. Probably because he couldn't.

"Okay, I'm just going to ask you some questions through translate so we can get to know each other better!"

... why was she smirking at him?

* * *

Clove quickly types in a question; _what is your name? _Easy.

"Cato." He answers, looking at her with a dull expression; he wasn't amused. She moves on assertively, her fingers taping against the keyboard. _Where are you from?_

"_Jestem z Polska. Mówiłem ci, że. Chociaż ja mieszkam we Francji na okres czasu, mój ojciec miał się poruszać dużo." _

{**Translation: **_I'm from Poland. I told you that. Though I did live in France for awhile, my father had to move a lot._}

Clove has come to be okay with him having a more interesting life than her. Interesting lives mean danger and risks, she never wanted that for herself.

_What was your first impression of America? _she asks next.

She gives a quick glance to the translation: _Jakie było Twoje pierwsze wrażenie z Ameryki?_

How does he even understand that? To her it doesn't even look like a language, just a bunch of alphabet soup; though Arabic and Thai are much more confusing.

"_Bardzo głośno i bardzo brudne. Chociaż, skąd jestem, to nie było zupełnie inaczej." _

{**Translation: **_Very loud and very dirty. Although, where I'm from, it wasn't much different._}

Clove finds out he's from Legnica the next moment and she's taken aback. She didn't know much about Poland but she did know that Legnica was the third most dangerous city in the country.

She tries not to say anything, he'd grown up there, she would spare him his feelings.

Clove asks Cato if he had gone to school. He replies he had been a part of gimnazjum (gymnasium, whatever he had said. It meant elementary and middle school) for his childhood and adolescent years, then got through a couple years of liceum (the Polish equivalent to high school) but then he was moved here to start college early.

She reads everything he writes down, anything from school to outside activities to his _psyche_, for goodness sake. She learns on her own that he has a control problem by the stories he tells. He's not bossy, or any of that. He just couldn't stand when there was something he had planned and it didn't work out the way he wanted.

She needs to watch out for that.

"Last question, I promise." Because they had been sitting in this shitty pizza place for what seemed like a year.

She asks him how he started ballet. She really did want to know why someone like him would choose ballet over a boys' dominant sport.

He smiles softly at the question, looking down at the keys and tapping his finger against the 'i' repeatedly, but not pressing down. He bites his lip nervously and slowly begins to type, this was the only question he wasn't able to answer right away; he had to think about it first.

Perhaps 15 minutes later, she receives her answer.

(**A/N; who's ready for longness? haha.**)

"_Ballet was always my guilty pleasure. It had been the only class I could afford to attend when I was 7, and I was pleasantly surprised that I wasn't terrible on the first day. Dance teacher had told my mother I was a 'prodigy,' and while my heart had sank at the moment; I grew into the fact that at 7 I was the most well-known dancer in the area. You get stuck with what you get stuck with and sometimes that's just how it is, and I'm perfectly happy with it because I learned to love ballet right after I was treated to seeing a performance of Sleeping Beauty in Russia. Those male dancers lifted those girls like they were nothing, I admired their strength and masculinity but equal ability to be something beautiful and inspiring. _

_I remember the feeling of being so happy to perform in my first dance recital; a bit from Swan Lake. You can imagine it was funny being the only male on stage. Ma and Father were there to watch, Ma cried and clapped and people congratulated me after the performance. Father just smiled and patted my head, he was happy for me too. I was quickly excepted into company halfway through my audtion; even as a child. I don't regret any of what I did and never will. _

_I do ballet because it has nothing to do with the people, it's a self achievment that you work on around others; and while we all care about one another we don't need to have each other's backs. You rely on yourself. Boys may lift the girls and girls may make everything look pretty, but that's just the wrapping on the paper. You never know how wonderful something is until you get close enough, I guess that's why I always liked to dance. From far away, it seems girly and often stereo-typed as gay for a boy to dance; but I never minded because I knew what it meant to me and that was all that mattered. I'll be a boy in tights any day. _

_I was taught to always share what I could offer to the world in the glory of just being different, and dance was always something I could give. I tried to play football—soccer to Americans—but my legs never moved in that way and I couldn't work on a team. Dance made me feel much more free because I knew the stage was a place I could go that was only for me, my creativity was mine, if I failed it was my failure. No one but myself could judge me for that, and even if I ended up dancing in back row I would still be happy because it's just one more day I get to dance."_

Clove stares at the 4 paragraphs before her. ".. well, that's the longest goddamn answer I've ever read." She decides it's too deep for anyone in her school to understand, this won't make it to the pages.

But she can go on knowing more things about him then anyone else in America, she smiles. Knowledge was something she enjoyed having—even as a weapon.

…

Clove irons her hair into gentle curls in front of a mirror, it was Saturday night and the band gig she had agreed to attend was in 45 minutes. She finishes her hair, but scrunches up her nose and ends up pulling back the curls into a ponytail. Her arms were were covered with static from the minty robe she wears, she kept shocking herself.

She puts on light mascara, that was all she wanted. The last thing she needed was a boy getting the hots for her; not like it was going to happen anyway.

"So, Clove," Haymitch's voice calls out when he busts through the door, Clove drops her mascara with a gasp. She slams her palms onto the bathroom counter. "Don't _do_ that!"

"Sorry, didn't know you were doing your teenage girl thing."

Clove huffs. "Whatever, what do you want?"

Haymitch touches one of her curls pulled back behind her head and smiles. "Well, it is Saturday night and Cato has his first day at your school on Monday.."

"Yeaaahh..?" "... I was just thinking it might be nice to, bring him along..?"

The brunette's eyes widen. "You want me to bring him with me?!"

"Yeah, what's wrong with it?" Haymitch asks when she turns to look up at him, her face going beet red.

"People are going to think he's my _boyfriend_!" Clove wails, throwing her arms in the air; she hisses when she gets a shock up her arm again.

Haymitch stands dumbfounded, but then his blank expression turns into a smirk. "Is my niece embarrassed to be seen with a boy?"

"What? No! I just don't want to be seen with _him_!"

"You have a thing for him, don't you?" He chuckles, pointing at her and shielding his face when she chucks a hairbrush at him. He backs out of the bathroom slowly, laughing to himself. "I never thought you'd actually be embarrassed about liking someone!"

"Uncle Haymitch, cut it out! You're such a child!" But it was true. When Clove liked someone, she usually just.. liked them. There wasn't much to it after that, and she was never really ashamed or alerted about it. "I'm embarrassed about it because I don't like him, he's a loser!" Clove was known for her impulses. She didn't regret anything at the moment, but she would later and it would send her into a downward spiral.

Haymitch stops suddenly and looks at his niece, here she goes again; running around the circle. "You and I both know you don't mean that." The man knew she didn't appreciate her problems.

"Yeah, well you and I both know I'm _right_."

Haymitch sighs. "He's different, maybe you'll stop being appalled with it one day." Clove rolls her eyes. "Whatever, get out. I have to finish."

"Just think about it, okay? And try to have fun while your there."

"Don't count on it."

…

Clove rummages through her wardrobe, pulling out every drawer and throwing clothing everywhere.

Cato just barely dodges a pair of underwear.

"Well this sucks," The brunette plops on the floor, in only blue nylon shorts and a white tank top. "I have _no_ clothes. _You_ probably have more than I do." She gestures to the blue eyed teen next to her.

Cato shakes his head.

She pulls out a pair of jeans to wear with her tank top. "Guess this'll have to do. The Clove uniform wins again."

Sometimes Clove wonders why she talks to him like he's actually going to respond. He hardly understands English, let alone the acronyms and metaphors she uses. He couldn't go to school unable to speak the language, could he?

She hears the sound of a paper bag being messed with and finds Cato kneeling in front of the bag she had thrown in her closet earlier, and he pulls out the pink dress. He hands it to her and she watches in awe.

Like always, Clove pushes it away. "No."

But Cato was stubborn too. He puts it in front of her again. She refuses. He pauses. He drapes it over her head.

Clove foot stomps on the ground harshly, she was not a happy camper. She fists her hand into the fabric and growls. "Fine, I'll try on the dress!"

Cato smiles. She sneers, trying to scare him off but the smile just brightens reassuringly.

* * *

Cato waits for Clove to come out, she's been in there for 10 minutes. He knocks on the door and calls for her, "Clove is okay?"

"I'm fine," The voice says through the wooden door and he sees the doorknob slowly twisting. He backs away for her to come out.

She cracks the door and peeks out with brown eyes, there's a different look to them now. Her pupils are larger and her irises aren't as cold, she looks nervous. He waves her forward and she carefully pushes past the door.

To say she looked nice would be an understatement. He thought she looked beautiful, even more so with her dark tresses laying calmly on her shoulders and a pink bow in her hair. She actually looked.._ pretty. _

A hot blush spreads over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, he stares at her dress in surprise. His mouth stays closed unlike most people when she wears pink, but she can still see his shock. Quite honestly, she had an equal reaction when she looked at her reflection.

"You think it looks okay?" She spreads the dress out with her hands, looking down at the fabric. "I never liked pink. Bleh."

He nods. She flushes with color as well, but doesn't let him see.

Smoky rubs between the blonde's legs, lifting his back and shivering his tail. He meows when large hands pick him up; one moving to stroke through his fur.

"Hey.." Clove's voice causes Cato to look at her. She bites her lip. "I.. do you want to come with me? Marvel loves new people, especially when they come to see his band."

He looks up at her.

".. I mean, they're really good. Even though Glimmer's the only one trained in _all_ types of music, she threads everyone together nicely and they have an awesome show. She's really great and so are the rest of them, I mean Marvel is only trained classically but he's still amazing and I—"

"Okay." He cuts her off with a shrug, then returns to petting his cat. Clove goes to look at herself in the mirror again, she smiles.

That was the next thing Clove learned about foreign exchange students, they make you want to wear pink dresses more often.

* * *

**I'm so sorry for no update in awhile. I've been in surgery for my sworn enemy, severe scoliosis (surprised I was still able to be as athletic as I am) and I wasn't motivated to move, it hurt me when I did. :P Ah, complaining again. I'm sorry for being rude :P**

**So as an apology, I'm writing a very long chapter. I was going to put that chapter in this one, but it would've taken to long to get an update in there and I didn't want to leave you all wondering if I'm dead or alive. Though I probably messed up some grammar and spelling... I'm careless sometimes haha.**

**Also, was that enough of an 'explanation' (?) to why Cato does ballet...? It meant a lot to me, actually; because I got one of my friends (who dances at the same studio as I) to give his opinion on how it was for him. I didn't want to shorten anything because I love full explanation, nothing will be left an open window or I will feel incomplete.**

**Review, maybe? :)**


	8. Chapter 8

_**Disclaimer:**_ **I don't own any music, or characters besides my OCs. :) Enjoy!**

* * *

_**She knows what I think about**_  
_**And what I think about**_  
_**One love, two mouths**_  
_**One love, one house**_  
_**No shirt, no blouse**_  
_**Just us, you find out**_  
_**Nothing that wouldn't wanna tell you about no**_

_**'Cause it's too cold**_  
_**For you here and now**_  
_**So let me hold**_  
_**Both your hands in the holes of my sweater**_

_**-Sweater Weather; The Neighbourhood**_

* * *

"He's gonna give himself whiplash," Johanna counters as the boy on stage bangs his head a bit too flippantly. The opening act was terrible, she and Clove had agreed. Worse than that Swedish heavy metal band at that _Truth About Love _concert they went to.

"Or brain damage."

"Well, with the brain damage he's got nothing to lose."

"You're the bitchy-est bitch I know, Johanna."

Finally the music ends and everyone claps mildly as the three boys walk off the tiny stage, their overdone faces looking satisfied.

"Glad they don't know they suck," Glimmer mumbles, and all the girls laugh. The waiter calls out the name of Marvel's band and Glimmer smirks, standing from her seat and grabbing her electric guitar.

"You better blow me away or I get my money back before everyone," Johanna says as she high-fives Glimmer, the blonde chuckles. "Will do, Hanna."

Glimmer had to pay Johanna to get her to come, and Glimmer wasn't a quitter so she was determined; everyone could see it in her bright green eyes. Before the blonde girl goes up on stage, she stops by Clove and leans down. "You might wanna stay for the whole show, Marvel's got something special planned just for you."

She walks up on stage and Clove watches the rest of the band gather around her. Her hands become sweaty and her vision blurs. _Special? From Marvel? Just for me?!_ she thinks wildly. _This can't be what I think it is. _But was it? Did he want her back? He couldn't. She broke his heart into tiny pieces, and like a shattered ankle a heart would never be the same after that.

And he and Katniss were a thing now, weren't they? _Weren't they?!_

"Hey Clove, I meant to ask you," Johanna interrupts her thoughts and Clove is thankful for a distraction. "Who's the dude who came in with you?"

"Oh, that's Cato. He's a foreign exchange student living at my house, I invited him to come so he can get used to the kids of our school."

Johanna nods. "He's foreign, eh? Where's he from?"

"Take a wild guess."

".. uh.. London?"

"He's doesn't speak English."

"He doesn't speak English?!"

"Nope."

"Jesus Christ, Flickerman ain't gonna like him."

Clove laughs slightly. That was true, but hopefully the strict English teacher would cut him some slack.

"So, where's he from?"

"Poland."

Johanna stifles a laugh by puffing out her cheeks. "Marvel's gonna be crackin' lots of stupid Polish jokes when he finds out."

"Not if I can help it."

Clove looks over to see Cato in a back corner, smiling and listening to music on his phone. He seems pretty happy all alone in a dusty corner, she raises her eyebrows.

"You said he's living with you?"

"And sleeping in my trundle."

"Did I hear that right?" Madge laughs, leaning over the back of her chair to see Clove. Her curly blonde hair bounces slightly when she speaks, "You're letting a boy sleep in the same room as you?"

"I guess, but we're just sleeping; it's not like we're talking or anything."

Another leans in her direction, Clove becomes agitated. They start trying to ask questions but she shakes her head.

"There's nothing else to it, he's just staying with me for a little while." She mumbles, deeply praying that music would start and she could escape this hell.

"See, this is your problem. You make it like we're prosecuting you but we just want to know what's going on." Gloss says, acting as though he were a therapist that knew more about her than she.

"Gloss, leave her alone." Cashmere scolds. "Now what are we talking about?" Clove hits her forehead.

"That kid over there," Madge points to Cato, who is still oblivious to everything around him, "is living with Clove now."

"That guy?" Cashmere's jaw drops.

"That's right." Johanna confirms, smirking at Clove's annoyed and embarrassed form, hunched over with her knee bouncing up and down.

"And he's living with you?" The blonde senior gets closer to Clove and looks down at her with wondering eyes.

"Yeah, but they're not like _fucking _or anything—" "Oh my god, Madge!" Clove glares at the blonde-haired girl and growls as Johanna snickers in amusement.

"Were you?" Everyone asks suddenly. Clove stares with her mouth open, shaking her head. "You guys.." She whispers, rolling her eyes at their stupidity.

Gloss rolls his eyes. "Okay, Gloss out. If you're not gonna spill, I don't care."

"Well if you really want to know then why don't you ask him? He's pretty lonely."

Johanna furrows her brow. "I thought you said he didn't speak English, there'd be a seriously language barrier."

"He doesn't speak English?" Cashmere asks in surprise.

"Yes, ma'am. He sure doesn't. Right Clove?" Johanna says, looking from one girl to the other. Clove nods shyly, sinking into her chair slightly like a student that doesn't know the answer to a math equation.

"He must really understand you then, Clove." The brown-eyed teen never thought of it that way. It does seem that he understands a lot of what she says and does, he listens to her.

He doesn't question her like everyone else.

…

If Clove were to describe a band gig in New York on Saturday night with three simple descriptions, they would be loud, hot, and full of drunks.

The band seems to be performing only covers tonight, the first act being _It's My Life _by No Doubt.

She weaves her way through the jumping crowd, this bad band had gotten increasingly better; even Johanna was showing signs of having a good time. Madge and her both, this was their date and Clove thought it looked to be a success. The girls were enjoying each other's company, laughing and smiling and for a minute Clove thought she wanted a boyfriend again.

But that couldn't be.

She was left alone now, and she was walking across the room toward the buffet; she grabbed one of the warm plates and instantly piled dozens of cinnamon roll twists and powdered brownies onto it. She didn't want the have pizza again, so dessert was enough. Soon, she spots Cato, and makes her way towards him. He's pointing and flexing his bare feet. She gives a look of disgust before sitting down next to him, setting her plates down on the rectangle table before them.

"Hi," She mumbles, tearing part of a cinnamon bun and popping it into her mouth.

"Hello," He says. She looks his way. "You know '_hello_'?"

"Hello." He repeats.

"Well.. that's a good start, I guess." She swallows and then breaks off some brownie. "Anyway, what are you doing all alone over here?"

Cato hardly understood what she meant. He wasn't alone, there were people everywhere. To the left, to the right, in front of him.

"I figured you wouldn't like it.. sorry it's torturing you." Clove rolls her eyes, still eating mildly and thumping the heel of her foot on the floor. She liked the beat, it helped her relax. It stopped the intrusive thoughts. It stopped the fear.

The song ended and up came another one, _Dance With Me Tonight _by Olly Murs. Except it was more upbeat, and Gale was singing it. Typical Gale, always a ladies man. But he was still a nice guy, Clove thought he was hilarious.

Clove smiles. "I love this song.."

_Ladies and Gentlemen we've got a special treat for tonight_

A hand is suddenly in front of the brunette, she looks at it in confusion. One eyebrow is raised at the boy next to her.

_I'm gonna call my friend Olly up here to sing to you ladies_

_He wants to dance with me, _Clove thought with a hot flush of body heat going from her head to her toes. "I actually can't dance, but you go ahead."

Of course, Cato just laughs and pulls her with him.

_Olly! _

_Let's go man_

They're in the middle of the dancing couples, and the brown-eyed teen tries hiding behind her partner; but he twirls around and lifts her, placing her feet on top of his. He takes both her hands, stretching their intertwined left hands to the side and keeping the right hands pulled in.

_My name is Olly nice to meet you can I tell you baby_

_Look around there's a whole lot of pretty ladies_

_But none like you, you shine so bright, yeah_

She watches his shoeless feet as he shows her how to move her own, slowly at first so she can get the hang of it. She realizes this as one of those quickstep dances on _So You Think You Can Dance?_ He removes her feet from his and they repeat the action. She counts the motions but he shushes her.

_I was wondering if you and me could spend a minute_

"No counts, only dance." She looks up at him innocently. He flattens her lifted shoulders, "Relax muscles."

_On the floor up and close getting lost in it_

She nods and then they return to dancing, getting faster by the second and she giggles slightly.

_I won't give up without a fight_

_I just wanna, oh-oh baby_

_I just want you to dance with me tonight_

By now they were spinning and Clove cries out as she nearly whirls into people, but each time Cato is there to catch her with an amused smile.

"It's not funny!"

_So come on, oh-oh baby_

_I just want you to dance with me tonight_

Clove hears Johanna's loud laugh from her table and she knows her friend has seen her. She decides to take one battle at a time, continuing with her dancing. She felt slightly embarrassed that she kept tripping over Cato's feet, but he always got her right back on track.

_We're getting sweaty, hot and heavy in the crowd now_

_Loosen up and let you hands go down, down_

_Go with it girl, yeah just close your eyes, yeah_

"Shit, now we're the main focus, nice job." Clove scowls.

But Cato took advantage of the extra space that was given to them, and he began showing her even larger dance moves; whether they were separate or together.

_I feel the music moving through your body_

_Looking at you I can tell you want me_

_Don't stop keep going till the morning light, yeah_

He was certainly a well-trained dancer, it was obvious to the girl that stood as he did some kind of leap; encouraging her to add on.

Clove always liked a little friendly competition.

_When I saw you there,_

_sitting all alone in the dark acting like you didn't have a care_

She smirks and him and he smiles right back.

_I knew right then, _

_that you'd be mine, _

_and we'd be dancing the whole damn night right_

_Oh baby, I just want you to dance with me tonight_

_So come on, oh baby_

She didn't care how awful it looked anymore, suddenly her feet knew what to do and she was just _dancing_. Her ponytail flips in the air and the pink dress spreads out around her when she twirls, her flats slap against the floor.

It didn't matter if Cato was better than her. If it didn't matter to him, or anyone else, then it didn't matter to her.

_I just want you to dance with me tonight_

Clove grasps Cato's hand and pulls him with her, their dance was no longer a neat quickstep but instead more like a clumsy jazz/tap fusion class of toddlers. But it was fun and Cato got to see that nice smile—like the one in the scrapbook.

_I just wanna, oh baby_

_I just want you to dance with me tonight_

_Everybody everybody come on now_

Marvel takes a glance at his ex-girlfriend out on the floor, and grins widely. He'd secretly heard about this new boy living at her house and even though Clove didn't see it this way, the boy was a chance.

A chance for her to be happy again.

_Girl, just close your eyes_

_We can dance all through the night,_

_I just want you to dance with me tonight_

"She looks like she's having a good time," Madge whispers to Johanna.

"She is, Madge. She really is."

_And everybody sing_

_Girl just close your eyes, we can dance all through the night_

Clove abruptly knew what Cato meant when he explained why he liked dancing earlier. The long answer had been a maze, but now she understood. He whirls her around, his eyes are closed. While that would've scared her because he wasn't watching where he was going, she shut her eyes as well. Flashes of light tinted the blackness, but her feet knew what to do and his feet did too; they matched one another like identical twins.

_I just want you to dance with me tonight_

_So come on girl just close your eyes_

_We can dance all through the night_

_I just want you to dance with me tonight_

She yelps in surprise as he swings her down into a dip for a finish, but his eyes open and there's a michievious look in them because he wouldn't drop her. He wouldn't ever think about dropping her.

She breathes hard with a soft smile and he stands her back up.

People are cheering and clapping because Clove has never done anything that.. _out there._

"I wish all dancing could be that fun," She whispers to Cato.

"All dance is for fun." He beams at her and then bows for whatever reason, backing out and leaving her in the bright lights as he disappears into the shadows of people.

She walks away then, going to where Johanna, Madge, and now Katniss were; forgetting her desserts back at the table he went to because he needed them more then she did. If he was going to the American Ballet Academy this might be the last time he gets dessert like that.

…

"Clove, that was great!" Johanna says, near crying because of her laughter.

"I'd believe it more if you weren't laughing," The brunette says with a light smile, plopping into a chair.

"Sorry, sorry.. but seriously, that was awesome."

"Yeah, you looked so good out there!" Katniss compliments.

"All sweaty with a professional dancer who hardly missed a beat? I don't think so. That was so embarrassing, me and him are gonna have a serious talk about 'not encouraging Clove to do stupid things' when we get home." Clove rolls her eyes and turns back to the stage.

Now the band was playing _Slut Like You _by P!NK. Marvel had said something about Glimmer loving this song because it was funny but sexy, both at the same time.

_I got a little piece of you-hoo_

_And it's just like woo-hoo_

_Wham Bam thank you Ma'am_

_Boo-hoo_

_I'm a slut like you_

_You say you're looking for a foo-ool_

_And I'm just like "me too"_

_I'm gonna let ya know the truth_

_I'm a slut like you!_

Clove remembers when Glimmer was a slut. But she turned over a new leaf and was a much better person now, she always was. She just didn't think she was good for anything else until she found her boyfriend, Peeta Mellark. The kid wanted to be a baker when he grew up and he was as soft as the bread he made, and Glimmer was a bit edgy and could kick your ass if she really wanted; but opposites attract, don't they?

The song goes on and Clove begins to wonder where it is that Cato disappeared to. She couldn't lose him to a high-school party, Uncle Haymitch would ban her from ever writing again and that couldn't happen.

She'd go find him later, he couldn't have gone far.

"Okay, now this'll be our last song of the night and it's dedicated to one very special chick in here," Glimmer begins into the microphone. "Her name is Clove everyone say _hi Clove!_"

"Hi Clove!" Everyone says and the brown-eyed teen sinks into her seat. _This is it. _

"Alright, Marvel? You ready?"

Marvel sits at the grand piano, rubbing his knees and flexing his fingers. "Well I-"

"Hell yeah you are. Go ahead."

The whole place is silent and Johanna nudges Clove's side as Marvel sets his fingers on the ivory keys.

He begins _How To Save a Life _with ease, no fear on his face at all. He'd been playing since he was little, Clove knew he was good.

He performs his piano cover, not looking at her once but she can still feel that this is for only for her—no one else. She feels more comfortable when she realizes he's not trying to get back with her, he's trying to make amends.

Marvel would always be her first boyfriend, the first boy she generally loved; but it was time to move on. It was time for her to move on, time for him to move on especially. He had Katniss, Clove didn't want to hold that back.

The song ends and everyone looks at her like they expect her to talk, she didn't want to say anything. She didn't _have _to say anything.

1 million eyes were glued to her and Johanna elbows her side, she flinches—nearly knocking over her chair.

"Say something," She whispers huskily.

Marvel is staring, and Clove clears her throat. "That was beautiful. Very nice playing." She stands, and leaves.

* * *

Cato smashes pizza dough onto a wooden board, his doughy fingers grabbing the rolling pin. He didn't know how he ended up making pizzas, it just... happened. The party was boring after he left Clove to talk to her friends, anyway. He didn't know anyone else and couldn't talk to them, so when the chef offered him a job after the main cook cut his finger... he figured it would be interesting.

"Ey! Vhat are you doing?!"

"Pizza..?"

"You roll left right, not up down!"

Cato quickly complies, nodding his head and rolling left to right.

"Get corners too."

The blonde puckers his brow and the chef stares at him. "Vhy are you looking at me like zhat?"

Cato uses his hand to explain that the pizza is a circle, it doesn't have corners.

"I have no idea vhat you are saying." The chef waves him off and walks away, Cato decides to show him how a real pizza is done.

* * *

Clove stands in front of a mirror in the bathroom, fixing her ponytail and adjusting her dress nervously. Sooner or later she'd have to face Marvel, she wasn't sure she was ready to do that.

There was a mild moan of pain from in one of the stalls, the brunette narrows her eyes at her reflection and whispers, "Katniss..?"

She whips to face the stall and tries opening it, but hears and silent yell of rejection. "No, no don't come in..!"

"Katniss, what's wro—?" She gasps and quickly back away as the door flings open and Katniss faints onto the floor.

…

Clove grips Cato's finger tightly as they stand with the paramedics, a woman marking things down on a clipboard and Marvel biting his nails nervously.

"Is she going to be alright?" Glimmer asks.

The woman with the clipboard nods unsurely. "We'll have to take her in, but this is just a round of HIV-related pneumonia."

Clove's hand tightens around Cato's finger and her eyes shoot to Marvel, he looks unbelieving and his skin is more pale then it was before.

"HIV-related? You're telling me she's HIV-positive?"

* * *

**Wasn't this such a long, messy chapter? I've never been to a high school party, I didn't know how to write it properly. XD**

**I know, I know.. there's a lot of Clove/Marvel drama.. but I feel like they need closure before I can begin with the severe Clato. Everything with them should be cleared up in the next 1 or 2 chapters, I hope. **

**Also, can you guys suggest ideas in your reviews? I just need a little bit.. I'm pretty stumped, and I want to know what you all want :) **

**And to the reviewer that thought Jason was secretly Clove's son... NO. He's her little brother. XD Sorry for confusion. :) **

**-Emma**


	9. Chapter 9

**So I'm just going to come out and say it: I hate Clarvel to death and all my good friends know that very well, now you do too. I would rather sink on the Clato Titanic then get on the Clarvel lifeboats. So I apologize if you don't think I write Clarvel well, it's not my intention. **

**Glad we got that covered! Enjoy this chapter, and please don't favorite/follow without reviewing!**

* * *

**_Where there is desire_**

**_There is gonna be a flame_**

**_Where there is a flame_**

**_Someone's bound to get burned_**

**_But just because it burns_**

**_Doesn't mean you're gonna die_**

**_You've gotta get up and try, and try, and try_**

**_Gotta get up and try, and try, and try_**

**_You gotta get up and try, and try, and try_**

**_-Try; P!NK_**

* * *

Katniss curls up on her hospital bed, feeling useless and shrunken down a size because now everyone knew. Glimmer knew, Johanna knew, Clove knew. And worst of all, Marvel knew.

She wants to throw every machine in this room out the window and onto the street, because then maybe she could believe that she wasn't the one who needed them. She'd never done anything bad, she was a good girl and a friend of anyone who tried.

She feels a hand in hers and closes her eyes. The hand was warm and shaking, or maybe that was hers.

"... why didn't you tell anyone, Katniss?" She can hear the pain in his voice. "I could've—"

"Could've what, Marvel? What's done is done, this is my mistake. The infection's going to be there for the rest of my life." She mumbles sadly, rolling over to face him slowly.

They look at each other for awhile, just sharing gazes and he rubs the back of her delicate hand with his thumb.

"You don't want to be with me." Katniss says, her soft voice catching behind the lump in her throat.

"Of course I do, Kat." He whispers to her.

She shook her head. "No, you really don't. You don't want to be tied down to a.. to a.._ disease._"

He shakes his head, looking at her with tearful green eyes. "You and I both know you don't mean that."

Seeing this girl in pain was hard, he hadn't even been with her for that long. But Katniss was never this sad, never this vulnerable. It made him wish he could transfer all her pain to himself just so she could be that girl again.

He understands now why she didn't want to tell anyone.

A small tear goes down her cheek and she reaches her arms up to hug him. She bites into the fabric covering his shoulder, trying not to grit her teeth too hard.

"I'm sorry," She sobs into his shoulder, her cries loud and uncontrollable; he rubs her back and curbs his own tears.

"I don't want you to get hurt.." melted from her mouth, like wax.

* * *

Clove sits in the bathroom, her legs hanging off the edge of the counter and she eyes her shoes warily. The only thing she ever liked about the hospital was that it was sterile and clean, but otherwise there were germs everywhere and everything was open. Danger was everywhere here.

Why was she worrying so much about Katniss? They were hardly even friends, they were just acquaintances so far. But Katniss had been one of the first people to accept her for her differences in high school. Nobody ever accepted differences, that was why Clove was the way she was.

If people couldn't embrace her differences, she wouldn't embrace theirs.

She now wonders how Cato could be so confident in who he was. Maybe personality trait peculiarities were much more frivolous in Poland, but certainly not here. She frowned, maybe she should live in Europe.

The door opens to reveal the foreign boy himself, peeking in nervously as if she were a queen that must grant his access.

"Yeah," She mutters, and he walks in; shutting the door behind him.

He's standing in front of her an awkward expression, she raises an eyebrow. "What?" Her voice was icy, but he's not scared. "I just wanted to be alone for a bit."

He recognizes the word _alone_ and nods, starting to leave.

"Wait!" She calls. "You can stay, you don't annoy me... sorry for.. snapping." He shuts the door again, slowly moving to sit next to her.

She keeps frowning at the floor, but decides to talk. "Why'd you dance with me?"

She swears she can hear him laugh at her. "Bored." She couldn't wait until he could say full sentences, one word sentences were getting too cerebral for her; she couldn't decipher half of what he meant.

"You were bored, so you decided to embarrass the fuck out of me?"

He nods slightly, but then shakes his head and points at her. "Clove."

She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, that's my name. Whatever, just don't make me dance again."

He scowls at her and then takes her hand. They sit there, Cato acting as if nothing was going on and Clove trying to figure out why there were butterflies in her tummy.

…

Clove spots Marvel sitting in a chair next to a sleeping Katniss, she pushes through the door and into the darkened room. He looks up at her, a compromised look on his face.

She looks down at a curled up Katniss, sighing. "How was she?"

"Okay but really sad."

Marvel was very worried, Clove could tell. It wasn't in his voice, or in his eyes, or in his face. It was in his choice of words_. _She plants herself next to him and just looks at him for a minute.

He then laughs sadly and lifts his head to look at her. "Did you even like the song, Clove? I mean are we even friends?"

Clove was confused as to why he'd ask her such a question, she didn't know the answer. She didn't know where she stood with anyone, let alone her ex-boyfriend. She blinks a few times, but doesn't answer.

"I don't even know what I did to hurt you, Clo."

"You didn't do anything." She mutters uselessly and dryly, Marvel shakes his head in defeat. "I'm not kidding, Marvel. You never did anything but treat me nicely."

More quietness surrounds them, shadows from the outside hall swishing across the ray of light cast onto the floor.

"... do you remember how you got me to stop talking long enough for you to ask me out?" Clove asks with a weird little chuckle, staring at the ground as if it provided the memory before her eyes; as though there were a television there.

"Yeah.." He laughs gently. "I kissed you and you looked at me like I had finally gone crazy."

"Marvel, you'd gone crazy a long time ago.. just not that crazy." They laugh together, like they always used to.

".. I remember our first date, I took you back to my house and we ate left overs with my ma and then went stargazing out on the roof." Marvel tells the brunette, who's lips flicker into a smile for only a minute. "You told me that you thought stars were people; angels. You told me you thought the night sky was an ocean of energy, where souls are rejuvinated and sent back to earth in any form it fits into."

"And you asked how I came up with that and I told you—"

"_I have very interesting views, not my fault you're bland as oatmeal without brown sugar._" He finishes her sentence, playing with his thumbs idly.

Clove exhales shakily. "How did you remember that?"

"How could I forget?"

She looks at him again, but it's not the same. She doesn't feel tingles all over her body, she doesn't feel the pleasant lightheartedness, she doesn't feel affection. She feels indifferent now.

She used to feel butterflies with him, when they were young and innocent and giddy and didn't truly have a concept of what love was. They'd found out about love together, and she'd felt the butterflies all the time with him. She thinks to herself, why'd she feel them with Cato?

Clove moves on before she gets scared.

"I'm sorry," She whispers. He looks at her. "For what?" "For making you handle it. It was never your problem."

Clove knew it was her fault they had broken up.

…

_"Clove?" Marvel heard the refrigerator close. Walking into the kitchen, he found that she was circling the island. By now, there were 8 glasses on lemonade on the counter, and 2 cheesesticks to go with each one. She walked around the island twice with no trace of emotion on her face, opened the fridge, touched the mayonaise, ketchup, and butter with both hands, and then grabbed the lemonade jug with her left hand. She shut the refrigerator and then half circled the island, stopped to flip the lights on and off twice and then getting a glass from the cupboard and filling it with lemonade. She placed the ninth glass on the island, and then opened the refrigerator to put away the lemonade jug, closed it, opened it again and grabbed 2 cheesesticks and put them by the glass. She began to repeat it._

_Marvel ran his hand down his face and slowly walked over to her, she was alone in the house. He should've known, he should've checked on her. _

_"Clove, Clove, hey—" He tried touching her shoulder but she whacked his hand aggressively. "Don't touch me." She hissed. _

_"Hey, no, look at me." He grabbed her shoulders and shook her. "Look at me, what's wrong? What happened?" _

_Of course he knew exactly what was wrong. She was stressed because she was alone, there had been nothing else to think about but being alone. She was scared because he could tell by the look in her eyes that the thoughts had come and she couldn't stop them, she was scared she would act out and there wouldn't be anything anybody could do to stop it; so she resorted to this creepy ritual to keep her from thinking about it—about anything but the order. _

_Because no one knew it better than her, she was a monster when she was scared. And now that he was holding her still, she slapped at him in a monstrous way—a way that she never had before. _

_"I said don't touch me!" _

_"Clove, you're out of line just listen to me!" He pleaded she smashed a vase to the floor and collapsed in angry sobs. Her face was going red and she looked up at him. _

_"Why did they want me to go? Why didn't they love me? They kept me for display, all I ever did was be the perfect little girl so they could brag and be better than everyone else, I thought they cared about me because of that! But no.. they _**_left _**_me because I didn't want to be that girl anymore, I thought they would still love me.. even if I wasn't perfect.." She cried, hastily wiping her tears. _

_Marvel kneeled on the floor by Clove, watching as angry tears stripped down her cheeks. _

_"But guess what Marv? Not everyone can be beautiful. Not everyone can be famous. Not everyone can be perfect." He was mildly shaking his head as she explained to him with a passion. _

_"Because when everyone's perfect," She laughed out, but darkened just as quickly. "_**_No one will be_**_." But Marvel still saw Clove in there somewhere. _

_"... Clove, calm down—" "No!" She yelled, choking on her sobs and stumbling back. She pointed at him. "I hate you! You lied to me! You don't love me, you just want to use me like everyone else!" _

_"What?! No I don—"_

_"I want to break up. I'm done, I can't do it anymore. I won't be used again." She pushed her fingers into her temples, and before he could reach for her—tell her he loved her and that he would never use her; Clove scrambled off and locked herself in the bathroom. _

_Marvel stayed in the house but didn't bother to go get her, he waited until Haymitch got home and then he left. Even on the cold walk home, he couldn't believe what had happened. _

_His girl. His girl lost her mind that night, his girl broke up with him. Perhaps she'd wanted out all along. _

…

Even though Clove knew she wanted to break up eventually, she hadn't wanted it to happen that way. She had wanted to get off on a good note for her first break up. But nothing was ever easy for her.

"I'll always remember what you said, _because when everyone's perfect, no one will be._ because it made a lot of sense."

"Yeah, bonehead?" She teases sadly, he chuckles lightly. So Marvel wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, he still got solid B-'s and C's. That was more than enough for him.

"Yeah. Because then everyone would be the same. It would be a false utopia, something that was unrealistic and... ugly. There wouldn't be a balance."

"I know what I said, Marvel. You don't need to explain."

More silence enclosed between them, Clove didn't notice the tears slipping down her cheeks. She remembers her father's smile when he taught her how to make brownies, her mother's pretty sundress when they went on picnics, and most of all when they would tuck her in and tell her that she could outshine the sun any day; and she would kiss them goodnight.

She'd loved her parents, how come they didn't love her?

Everyone she knew had cheated her, her best friend in middle school, her math tutor, and even some of the people she knew now. In her mind, even Marvel had cheated her. But she knew he hadn't, she just didn't want to believe that she had been wrong.

She had always been wrong, wrong about everyone because she didn't want to ask the questions. For that, she was a witch. She was a horrible person.

"When Katniss fainted today," Clove suddenly begins. "You wanna know the first thing I thought?" Her voice was wobbly, it caught in her throat once or twice.

Marvel watches as she gazes into her lap, her wet eyelashes blinking constantly.

"_I wish that was me,_ and then I started to think, you know? Because that's not something someone thinks when someone gets hurt, they think _oh! oh my gosh they're hurt! _and I've always been a bit abstract, but for me to wish pain upon myself was new."

Clove turns to him, 5 tears dribbling down her cheeks and her face tightening in sorrow. Her bottom lip was quivering and she parts her mouth to take a shaky inhale, his mouth drops a bit.

"I'm just interested in knowing: how much of what you liked about me was because I was desperate and easy, and how much because I was me?" Her voice was choked up, she was on the verge of exploding into her first round of waterworks in years.

For the second time in one night, a girl cries on his shoulder. Turns out today was emotional for everyone.

And he hugs her, hearing her loud sobs being let out into his shoulder as her small body shakes and erupts with pent-up sadness, and anger towards everything and she deserves to vent to someone.

Just because she stopped being his friend doesn't mean he stopped being hers.

* * *

Cato watches the boy from the scrapbook carry a sleeping Clove out into the waiting room where he sits, she is relentlessly put into his lap.

The boy smiles. No words pass between them, Cato is thankful. He wouldn't have understood anyway.

Cato takes Clove home. He lays her in bed and puts a Smoky beside her, the tiny kitten curls up next to her warm body instantly. After returning with a glass of water to put on her bedside table, he himself settles down and lets his head hit the pillow. Before dozing off, he feels a hand slip into his, holding tight as if he were an anchor.

"Thank you." A voice whispers.

* * *

**Finally wrapped up the Clarvel, I was so done with them. I hate that pairing compared to my beautiful Clato... compared to anything, actually. -.- Wait, I already said all that.. oh well, I said it again. **

**Okay! So.. REVIEW? Please don't follow/favorite without a review! Thanks for reading :) And apologies for any mistakes, I don't get time for writing during the day so I write at night. :/ And sometimes I just mess up on grammar XD**


	10. Chapter 10

**_Use me as you will_**

**_Pull my strings just for a thrill_**

**_And I know I'll be okay_**

**_Though my skies are turning gray_**

**_I will never let you fall_**

**_I'll stand up with you forever_**

**_I'll be there for you through it all_**

**_-Your Guardian Angel; The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus_**

* * *

Clove wakes up to a prickly tongue on her nose, her eyes clench in confusion until she opens her naturally dark eyes. Smoky licks her nose repeatedly until she giggles and sits up, watching him fall onto her lap. "Hello Smoky."

She strokes his little head, ruffling his ears. Smoky meows at her, tiny claws digging into the fabric of her pink dress as he tramples around clumsily.

"You're really cute, you know that?" She laughs, then dumps the grey fluff of kitten onto the floor. The tabby trots to the door and slips out through the slim crack, today was Sunday and Clove could smell bacon.

She quickly changes out of the pink dress and into her favorite yellow flannel pajamas; just to look like she just rolled out of bed and not a band gig. Her feet stuff into oversized bunny slippers, she listens to them flop on the floor as she opens the door and walks out, she yawns a bit. It was 6:30 in the morning, and the sun had barely risen at all, it was dawn.

She finds that Jason was awake as well and Smoky had found his way into the 5 year old's lap, Haymitch was frying a bunch of breakfast meat while hummingbirds fed off the sugar water Haymitch usually set out on the small deck for them.

"Good morning, Clovey! Did you have fun at the party last night?" Jason asks.

"Yeah, I guess."

"I like parties. Was there a bouncy castle?"

"No, Jason."

"Oh... stupid party."

Cato sits on the floor nonchalantly, reading something on his laptop. Clove takes a minute to examine his morning look. Hair that stuck up every which way, a willowy almost ghostly look to him, and most of all—no shirt, bright red sweatpants.

The brunette was confronted with years of training, and if she didn't have common sense she would've assumed he was on steroids.

"Shouldn't he be wearing a shirt in front of Jay?" Clove mumbles, though deep inside she kind of likes it, that beautiful dancer's body just_ right there _in front of her and oh shit, that girly side of her was coming again and she suppressed it as hard as she could.

But Clove was still a teenage girl, no matter how much she enjoyed denying it.

Haymitch stops his cooking, the quiet sizzling of bacon against a pot as he gives a half smirk. His niece could be very amusing "There's no rule, why?"

"Just suggesting.." The brunette swallows, then boldly looking back to Cato. She wonders why he never sits on the couch or in a chair anymore, always on the floor now-a-days—as if they weren't going to allow him to sit on the couch after that one day. "Hey, you can sit if you want, we don't bite."

"Smoky bites," Jason points to the little red divets in his arms, now glazing over with grey; though they were only prints—Smoky hadn't bitten through skin and Clove wasn't sure the near microscopic kitten ever could.

Clove gives her signature eye roll. She never thought her brother would be attached to something so quickly, he learned to be cynical like her—or at least she had hoped.

Cato remains on the floor, obviously secretive of whatever he was doing on his laptop. The reflection of movement from the dimmed screen is reflecting in his eyes, and she never really noticed it before but his irises were a bit purple if she looked really close.

"So, it's Sunday, and I'm taking Jay to the Zoo." Haymitch announces.

"Great, have fun." Clove deadpans, swiping a magazine from a little side table by the sofa. It was a random craft magazine, something that was saved for her each week.

"I get to see tigers, and you don't!" Jason sticks his tongue out mockingly, Clove glances up and rolls her eyes. "Wow, so jealous.." She mumbles, licking her thumb to turn the thin, static-covered page.

"_Anyway_, what are you and Cato going to do?"

"What, you're just assuming we're going to be doing something together?"

Haymitch almost chuckles at the defensive remark, but instead relents because it isn't worth the argument. "I thought it'd be nice for your little project."

"_Project?_" The brunette comes to her senses as soon as the words leave her mouth. "How did you know about that?!"

"You left your journal on the kitchen table," He explains, shucking a pancake off the griddle and sliding it onto a plate.

"It says _do not open_!" Clove whines. She contemplates running to get the journal, but it was no use—Uncle Haymitch knew everything and was going to exploit it day after day.

"You sound like a 1st grader again," Haymitch teases, unintentionally sounding flippant; Clove growls to herself. She hated him sometimes, but she knew that couldn't be possible—he'd been the only one willing to take her, she loved him for that.

Sometimes, she wondered if he even knew.

"Jay, I made you 3 chocolate pancakes, come get'em."

Jason whoops loudly and Smoky flies into the midair, his claws scrawl against the floor as he struggles to round the corner to Clove's room. Jason disregards the startled kitten and flings himself of the chair, little feet slamming to the floor.

"That reminds me, the cat needs pet food."

"I've just been cutting up some leftover meats, he likes it fine. Why buy cat food for no reason?" Haymitch questions; he'd never had a pet, let alone a cat.

Clove ignores the response and throws the magazine aside, rising off the cusions and going to the bar in the kitchen. She almost forgets to tap Cato, but remembers just before she steps onto the tiles.

"Clove, did you take your pill?" Haymitch asks as he throws his vitamin into his mouth. Clove's skin goes a shade paler, slightly olive-tinted flesh becoming a shade lighter.

"Yeah..."

"That's a lie."

"I don't want to take it today," She grumbles quietly, trying to disregard him.

"Clove."

"I don't want it, we're not going out in public. I'll be fine."

Haymitch shakes his head, removing the plastic orange bottle from the cupboard and pressing on the cap, twisting it from its safety. "Do you really want to take this risk? You were doing so good, don't give up now."

He hands the pill to her and he can tell she's so close to knocking it out of his hand, but she had the strength to hold back and that why she needs to keep taking this medicine.

"Fuck you," Her voice growls softly while taking the pill, tossing it to the back of her throat.

"I know; baby, I know," He mutters some-what comfortingly while passing her a bottle of water. "Don't beat yourself up; it's not your fault, it's not anybodys' fault."

* * *

Cato needlessly glares into his empty glass of milk, having ate a cup of strawberry yogurt and some cantaloupe. Haymitch read the newspaper and drank orange juice, Jason played with his action figures between bites of chocolate pancakes, and Clove—well, Clove was pretty much doing what he was doing: sitting with her hands in her lap, having pushed her empty, syrup-covered plate away.

Except it was different, because Clove was full. Cato wasn't exactly full, but he felt like it. And God, he needed to control it. He needed to boss it around before it took over all because he relented to the feeling. He didn't need it, he was better than that.

(Because for Cato, it wasn't as much about having low body weight as much as it was about control.)

"Pewnie, że nie chcesz więcej, Cato?" Haymitch asks, looking at the boy from the corner of his eye. {**Translation: **_Are you sure you don't want more, Cato?_}

"Nie dziękuję, jestem w porządku." He answers tacitly. {**Translation: **_No thanks, I'm fine._}

Cato looks down at his cellphone, seeing as the screen had perked to life with fluorescent light. Annie's name shows up and he feels his heart lift with hope, finally! Someone who wasn't ignoring him!

_Witam! Ja za tobą tęsknię! ;"( _{**Translation: **_Hi! I miss you so much! ;"( _}

He smiles sadly, returning a text with hastily moving thumbs.

_Wiem, ja też za tobą tęsknię :( Jak się masz?_{**Translation: **_I know, I miss you too :( How are you?_}

He presses send and looks up to find that Clove is also texting someone, Haymitch rolls his eyes and says something along the lines of _teenagers, always texting _in a seemingly confused, annoyed voice.

_Tak więc jednym z łasica dzieci jest stalking mnie teraz, przyniósł mi bukiet kwiatów wczoraj i teraz on mnie lubi i tak idziemy na randkę, ale nie sądzę, naprawdę chcę, bo nie jest nawet ładny, ale on jest taki słodki, gdy się go poznać i bóg Cato dlaczego musisz wyjść?! D:_

{**Translation: **_Yeah so one of the weasel kids is stalking me now, he brought me a bunch of flowers yesterday and now he likes me and so we're going on a date but I know if it's a good idea because he's not even cute but he's so sweet once you get to know him and god Cato why'd you have to leave?! D:_}

Of course Annie was going out with one of his annoying neighbors. Annie loved romance, even if it was with the wrong people. It was the only atrocious personality flaw about her in his mind, she was quick to find a boyfriend and he came to meet the parents right after the first date to which he pulled her reigns, telling her to slow down before she scared the poor boy away.

She thirsted for a love story, he was just glad she never wanted it with him.

_Jestem... przykro? _{**Translation: **_I'm.. sorry?_}

"Jason, could you bring your dish over here? And don't drop it this time." Haymitch calls, Jason hops from his chair and runs the plate to the counter. "Clove, honey are you finished?"

"Yeah, I'm done," Cato found that Clove was staring down at the phone in his lap as it buzzed with messages. He was almost afraid of her expression, her eyes were scrutinizing what he was typing carefully and it was then that the advantages of speaking a different language were hitting him in the face.

She wouldn't be able to understand a thing, and that was good; because he wasn't ready to be judged—not yet, and certainly not by her.

_Chciałbym mieć więcej znajomych, które były dziewczyny, a nie jakiś głupi chłopiec, który nigdy nie wie, co powiedzieć. -_- _{**Translation:**_ I wish I had more friends that were girls and not some dumb old boy that never knows what to say. -_-_}

Cato's mouth drops open in near offense, even though she was more than likely joking it still hurt—especially when coming from Annie, a bubbly ballerina that would rather jump off a bridge than hurt people's feelings.

_D: _

_Przykro mi, wiesz, że jesteś moim najlepszym przyjacielem i uwielbiam z tobą rozmawiać! _{**Translation: **_I'm sorry, you know you're my best friend and I love talking to you!_}

_:D_

_Ale nie wiesz, jak rozmawiać o chłopców z mnie. _{**Translation: **_But you don't know how to talk about boys with me._}

_D: _

* * *

Clove picks out a short-sleeved beige button-up for Jason, with a pair of khaki shorts and a navy blue sunhat, she watches as her baby brother puts a finger to his lips and then nods his head once.

He always had to approve the outfits she picked out for him. He wasn't picky about food, where he slept, how much time things took; but he was sure picky about clothes. He hated the seams on his socks, she turned them inside out. He didn't like belts, she had to get tighter fit pants. He didn't like itchy long-sleeved sweaters or anything that covered his arms because his body was claustrophobic, he complained of the cold all the time and well, there was nothing she could do to prevent that.

Uncle Haymitch had long ago given up on dressing the kid, the responsibility was passed down to Clove once more and she came to find that Jason was still stubborn about the whole thing.

She put the shirt over the little blonde boy's bare shoulders as he babbled on about random stuff that she wished she could listen to. Sometimes Jason just needed to talk, whether it was about his dream last night or about this mean girl in his class, and he liked it when Clove listened but there were times when she just couldn't anymore.

"Do you think Uncle Haymitch will take me to the big toy store? I miss the toy store, I like looking at all the Barbies."

Clove chuckles a bit once she finishes buttoning his shirt, she looks at him. Jason always liked Barbies and he enjoyed playing with Clove's old American Girl dolls, Nicki and Samantha. He treated the dolls nicely, being a soft-hearted child with the strongest case of compassion any 6 year old could have.

Haymitch always frowned upon a boy having a doll, but Clove didn't give a shit. Jason was her baby brother and she had authority over what he had, incidently.

"I know, you can ask him. I'll give him money for the taxi if he doesn't wanna pay." She winks, her brother breaks out in a big grin.

"_Yay!_"

She smiles a bit, handing him the rest of his outfit. "Okay, now go put on your pants."

He disappears into his little bathroom, Clove sits and waits. His tiny, old TV is flickering with visions of Doc McStuffins and a stuffed blue dragon reaching into a giant spaceship, trying to save some toy.

Clove falls back into Jason's twin bed, the soft comforter puffing up around her. Absentmindedly, her boggled psyche begins travelling through thoughts of Cato texting this 'Annie.' She kind of felt bad about his long distance relationship, there were a lot of frowny-faces in that conversation, it's a shame his girlfriend's so far away.

The look on his face showed her that he must really love her, so many emotions were there and then suddenly Clove felt something she hadn't felt in a long fucking time: jealousy.

Luckily, Jason came bounding out of the bathroom, saving her from feeling like that any further. Clove wasn't good with feelings.

"Can you tie my shoes? I still don't get it." Jason yammers, sticking up his sneaker; it's worn and aged laces hanging down of the grey shoe.

Clove sits up, hopping to the floor and beginning to tie the loose strings. "_Bunny ears, bunny ears, playing by a tree. Criss-crossed the tree, trying to catch me. Bunny ears, bunny ears, jumped into the hole, popped out the other side beautiful and bold._"

"Is that how you learned it?"

"Yup," Clove pats his foot, he jumps off the edge of the bed as his big sister walks him to the bathroom, holding his relentless tiny hand. He lifts himself up onto the pearly white counter, sitting down up close to the mirror and playing with his upper lip.

"Hey, let me see," He turns at the slightly curious tone, proudly showing Clove the scar. She looks at it for awhile; fingers raking over the red, puffed-out line scaling the distance from the bottom of his nose to the top of his lip.

"It's healed up pretty good, you know," She smiles. "It's barely noticable."

"Nobody can see it anymore?" Jason was ecstatic to finally hear those words.

"Maybe if they get up close, but then it'd just be a little papercut to them."

The 6 year old wrinkles his nose, raising a dramatic eyebrow. "Papercut on my face?" "Whatever, you know what I mean, brush your teeth."

* * *

Cato watches as Clove sets down a tall pile of books on the counter, and also has a CD and a mostly yellow box.

"Okay, so since there's nothing else to do today and we head to school tomorrow I've decided to teach you basic English."

He sits silently.

"Thank god the exchange student system provided all this shit for you, because if they didn't, you'd be absolutely screwed." She jokes, taking out a thick deck of white flash cards. "I'm just glad you're not Russian or Ukrainian so the alphabet won't be too hard."

Cato's hands remain balled up together in his lap as the brunette evens out the cards neatly, assuring her unbelieving eyes that the edges are lined up. He watches with big eyes as she organizes herself, noticing her need for everything to be straightened out.

"Alright, so all I'm going to do is hold up a card with a letter on it and you tell me what sound it makes." That seemed easy enough.

But it wasn't easy at all. Clove kept correcting him and then she scribbled on a clipboard, Cato was beginning to go insane. _No, no, no, no _she said it every time he tried! Why was he getting everything wrong?

The "Q"s, "V"s, and "X"s were the worst, he'd never once seen them.

He remains calm because he wanted to learn, he liked learning things and he liked knowledge. He made a decision that he'd need to erase every instinct his mind has if he wants to know how to be an American, and he trusted Clove to bring him there.

* * *

Clove sees the pale blonde struggling with the words she had decided to give him, his bright, innocent blue eyes are staring at them as she points to each one in Jason's language arts book. She taught the long and short sounds, he still got them confused but he would remember if she tried.

On the very last vocabulary word,_ accident_; she allows herself a glance at him, only to find those eyes returning to hers with the same amount of alacrity.

When Clove looked at Cato, she saw herself in that moment. She was reminded of a little girl, sitting in math class with big, geeky glasses covering her sparkling, almond colored doe eyes; the math teacher whacking down a wrinkled hand onto her dust wooden desk. There was a big, fat, red D minus on her test, the girl was mortified.

The short and shy 5th grader sunk into her seat as her teacher began crying out in disappointment that 'she had told her a million times that 48 and 84 or 56 and 65 are not the same numbers' and that 'a multiplication sign doesn't mean adding' and that 'question marks might work for her precious language arts tests but not math tests.'

"I-I didn't pass because I couldn't read the n-numbers.." She spoke like a tiny bird, her soft voice blending into the mild crescendos of the cold classroom. The teacher only cackled, marching back to her whiteboard as silent tears ran down the girl's olive-y cheeks.

That girl was Clove. Ever since she could remember, she was an unfortunate soul that saw numbers how one with dyslexia would see letters. Every day Uncle Haymitch and Jason told her it would make sense soon and she could wish all she wanted for those days but this was now, and it just_ sucked_.

Whilst staring into the deep, pleading eyes; she understands what it's like to be disabled and upset with yourself and she let him go, promising that tomorrow it would be better. He leaves, almost dissatisfied with himself; she is quick out of her trance and racing to his side.

She grabs his heavy shoulder, and turns him around; and she's not sure why she does it but she hugs him at an animated pace, giving him hardly any time to get his own arms around her. It was almost too much for Clove, she was so damn impulsive and sometimes she didn't just know how to get a handle on it.

It was strange to understand a person because hell, she didn't understand anyone and the only person she might've figured all the way out was Marvel, because he was about as deep as a kiddie pool.

"Don't beat yourself down, English is the hardest language to learn."

Clove goes to her office and writes.

_-Day 4 _

_Just this weekend I met a boy—he's a ballet dancer looking to be professional in his craft, he's Polish, he's genuinely sweet, and spontaneously enthralling. It's a given that I, and soon you all as well, have never met anybody like him. I was once told that people like that were rare, going extinct; and today I was met with ultimate perspicuity, and I feel if we continue to meet for daily English lessons—I won't be the only teacher. Perhaps, he could teach me something, too. _

* * *

**Joyeux anniversaire à moi! haha. Yes, it's my birthday today! (May 13th)**

**And also, I'm thinking about rewriting these latest chapters... it's not going the way I want... hmmm... I had it planned out, but it took a path of it's own. **

**Oh, and my good friend Cherry (she has a name, but she does not want to share it) just got a fanfiction account; she's writing an awesome Renesmee story right now; so please go check out her profile super quick? She's called **"cherrycordial". **She's amazing and I am very jealous of her skills.**

**Thanks, reviews are not required but certainly appreciated. :)**


	11. Chapter 11

**I wanted to get another chapter done because I've finished school for this year and I look forward to your reviews, I only get like 2 a chapter but it brings my spirits up so much still! :D **

**cherrycordial: Je sais! Et je ne me dérange pas vous traduisant, parce que cela signifie que je peux parler français avec vous! *laughing* Thank you for the review, Cherry. And, I used your idea. ;)**

**Okay.. so, that wasn't important at all so if you're wondering, don't bother. xD**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**_At last _**

**_My love has come along_**

**_My lonely days are over_**

**_And life is like a song_**

**_Oh yeah yeah_**

**_At last_**

**_-At Last; Etta James_**

* * *

Cato awakes to a fluff of air and soft fabric against his face, he scrunches his nose. "Get up! We're gonna be late!" Clove's morning voice squeals and he hears feet scurry across the floors. He throws off the covers and sits up, bending back until he hears the symphony of bones cracking in his once taut back.

"Stop stretching and move it!" Cato didn't understand how Clove could be such a drill sergeant in the morning. Didn't she ever get tired of being demanding?

None the less, he gets up; only to find Clove frantically jerking her toothbrush all around her mouth haphazardly as she picks an outfit. Jeans and a loose t-shirt featuring _"The Endless Summer"_ on it.

There is no silence on Monday mornings, Cato realizes. Jason is running about the hall looking for crumpled-up homework, Clove is getting ready as if she doesn't have an hour and a half to prepare herself, and Haymitch was.. playing cello?

Yes. That was definitely a cello.

"Pic'h t'ome clo'hes, I don' wanna be wh'ate!" Clove mumbles through a pint of minty toothpaste suds and water, a white stream rolling out of one corner of her mouth. She spits a long, sticky wad of toothpaste out and then uses mouthwash and floss while Cato messes around for clothes.

He finally settles on a simple outfit, a sweatshirt and jeans with a pair of grey running sneakers.

* * *

Clove pulls at her thick, wavy hair with a brush, hearing the scrawl of the bristles ripping through her not-so lucious locks. Morning hair was never her friend and beauty sleep didn't help her.

She growls as she feels hairs forcefully being pulled from her sensitive scalp; she cringes and shuts her teary eyes as the brush finally comes loose from her tangled tresses of dull brunette hair.

She feels rising frustration bubbling inside her as the brush once again gets stuck, and then she just gives up and throws the brush onto the counter, stomping out to her bed. She sits there and pouts.

Why was she about to cry? It was just a hair brush and she should've known to put her hair back into a ponytail like she normally would before she slept.

Clove was a wreck. Mondays were never enjoyable, they were always stressful and hard and as much as she usually relished school, she wasn't looking forward to it today. After all, it was just another 4 hours she'd end up spending in the dull, cold basement where the newsroom was.

As the brunette huffs and puffs on her mattress, glaring down into her lap; she fails to hear footsteps entering the small bathroom, as well as the sound of her brush dragging off the counter once more.

She doesn't care to turn around when the bristles touch her hair again, but she does tense a bit, even if it's only Uncle Haymitch trying to get her to calm down like he always does.

But she then recognizes that the fingers are different. While Haymitch's were gangly and hasty, these were soft and delicate as they followed the trail the brush made, splitting apart knots carefully when the brush caught.

Clove reaches back and touches a hand, finding that it was too big to be Jason's and too small to be Haymitch's.

Cato.

* * *

Cato lets his palm glide over the thick brush's handle, grasping it tightly. He peers over at Clove, who is currently having a silent fit of frustration. She was very dramatic about the silliest things, but he could accept it and move on with his day.

Though her hair is still a bird's nest and time is ticking, he looks at her before swiping up two hair elastics and sliding them onto his wrist. He didn't usually feel odd about brushing a girl's hair, he did Annie's hair all the time back in Poland. But Clove wasn't Annie, and she might snap at him like she usually does when he tries to help her.

Clove doesn't even notice him coming up behind her, so he takes the brush and swallows his fear; setting it in her chocolate locks.

She wasn't as scary up close, Cato confirms. He'd been unsure when he'd first suspected it back at the hospital; when he had to carry her sleeping body out and into a cab, also up the stairs to her house and into her room. She was so tiny, he would've told her so if he didn't know what the outcome would be.

She freezes as he slowly begins stroking the brush down her knotted locks, holding the top of the strands he's sweeping through so that he doesn't pull her scalp too hard when yanking through the snags.

Her hand extends back and graces over his, she is met with clarification and returns to staring out the window. She doesn't lean forward to exit his grip, or stop him at all; he becomes more confident when she simply loosens her tight posture and lets him drag out the tangles.

Cato begins to smile as the brush meets the split-ends of her thick hair, the big, wavy curls of hair springing up and coming back to life when the brush falls away.

She clears her throat when the task is complete and he's pulling all her hair back in his palms. "High ponytail, please."

He ignores her, sectioning off her hair into intricate divisions and begins styling double French braids. His fingers slip through her hair as he twists them together quickly, Clove's head jerking from side to side a bit as he goes.

When he's finished, he pats her head, and leaves her to complete whatever morning routine she had going on.

…

"Wow, I like your hair, Clo, how'd you do it?" Haymitch teases as he tunes his cello in the living room, Clove scowls. "I didn't.." She hesitates before adding the next part. "Cato did."

"Huh," The man shrugs, internally smirking to himself and setting down the bow to his instrument. He stands. "Alright, before going off with Jotatta—" "Johanna." "_Johanna_; I want you to at least get Cato on the right track, Clove."

"What happens if he's not on the right track?" Clove raises an eyebrow as nobody speaks. Haymitch just coaxes the trio out the door. "Bye Jason, have fun at show and tell and remember: don't share the tiger, no matter what your teacher says. That thing was $30, no bratty kids are gonna ruin it."

Jason had recently purchased a tiger stuffy from the Zoo, he named it Tigger and so far; carried it everywhere. Clove had even dressed him like Calvin from _Calvin and Hobbes_ today, he looked so much like the kid just waddling down the concrete steps, dragging a big tiger stuffed animal behind him in the leaves.

Cato hops the last two steps and waits for Clove's feet to meet the sidewalk, they begin strolling down the quiet, foggy streets of the upper east side in New York City.

Things were silent for awhile until Cato says a word, "Beach."

Clove looks at him, obviously confused but then she remembers how he hadn't been able to pronounce it correctly yesterday and applauds quietly. "Nice. I guess you get peach, then, too?" She smiles.

It was so overrated, but Cato was proud. He felt the weight of his accomplishment crashing down on him, as well as the weight of Clove's smile. She smiled because of him and in Cato's mind, that was a big achievement.

* * *

Clove and Cato stand at the beginning of the school hallway, watching students flock through relentlessly; pushing past one another with a barbaric demeanor.

"Welcome to hell," Clove says, crossing her arms and putting on churlish and fault-finding expression. "Don't be scared of anyone, they're all bark and no bite, so I wouldn't worry about any snotty remarks or tripping in the classroo—"

Clove watches incredulously as Cato begins making his way through the hall like it was nothing, sticking out like a sore thumb with whitish-blonde hair and ivory-skin, let alone being about a half a foot taller than the rest of them.

She almost forgets to catch up to him, but begins squirming her way through the maze of rushing high-schoolers, in a desperate, hopeless attempt to breeze through like Cato does.

For the second time in the most recent set of two hours, she becomes embittered; mumbling to herself, "I wish I wasn't so fucking short."

Someone grabs her wrist, pulling her back and whirling her around, Glimmer comes into view. "Guess who just got 20 bucks from Johanna?" She was grinning widely and having a mini dance party to herself, flipping her blonde locks over her shoulders.

"I'm going to go out on a limb here and say _you_," The brunette raises an eyebrow as Glimmer ceases her celebration, letting her arms sink to her sides.

"Yeah. We made a bet before the show that if I impressed her, she'd give me—"

"Money. I know, I was there, remember?"

And of course, Glimmer would take the oppertunity to exploit something she knew Clove would be embarrassed about. "I think I would've if you'd actually talked to us instead of searching for Lover boy the entire time."

The brown-eyed teen rolls her eyes. "Don't steal that nickname idea from me. It only fits on Peeta, anyway. And Cato's not my Lover boy, he's my student and the inspiration for my latest news article I need to edit today."

Glimmer smiles. "Finally got a idea after months of complaining to the rest of us, huh?" The light-haired girl takes the short walk to her locker, twisting her combination into place and watching it click open. She chucks her rainbow shoulder bag into her hippie-designed locker, halting to take out her German book.

"I guess, I'm looking forward to some leads but so far he's pretty blank."

"Clo, I just want you to know that I'm very proud that you're finally looking into the art of stalking boys."

Clove furrows her brow as Glimmer pats the side of her left arm.

"Speaking of boys, mine's over there," The green-eyed girl waves goodbye and heads toward Peeta, who's sitting on a bench waiting for her. "See ya!"

Clove had long suspected Peeta had some issues. They showed through sometimes, mostly on mornings when Glimmer wasn't by his side. He was very secluded and suppressed, only waving slightly when someone said hello to him.

The blonde girl had sneaked that Peeta had an abusive mother and a non-present father, and he was born in Austria, so obviously his family did things a bit differently.

The brunette figures he and Cato might be able to get along.

Clove walks along, struggling to find her roommate in the mix of high-school students. He was like _Where's Waldo_ in real life, she could never find him even if he stood out. He was quicker and just pushed along, rarely using his sense of direction and instead plowing through life like it was a messy yard of grass and he was a lawn-mower.

Clove couldn't decide whether she liked that or not.

When passing various different areas of the building, walking down flights of stairs to each different level, she finds Marvel in his typical spot—except today he looked angry and melancholy all at once. It doesn't take a genius to know he's depressed about Katniss. Marvel dwelled on things like that, and for this reason he was cynical; always expecting the worst possible outcome.

Johanna was simply yelling at her mother over the phone about who knows what a few halls down while Madge and Cashmere stood back, their curly blonde heads pressing together side-by-side as they watched the telephone argument go down right before their lightly-tinted eyes.

Finally, Clove finds Cato. She nearly jumps out of her skin.

Oh, Uncle Haymitch was so going to kill her. "Holy shit, are you alright?!"

* * *

**Who sucks at cliffhangers? *raises hand* lol.**

**Sorry it was so short, I don't even think this counts as a chapter, honestly. Not enough going on, but I want to thank my friend Cherry for the hair-brushing idea. I tried to pull it off, Cherry, I hope you liked it! haha. And I apologize for any mistakes. (I always apologize for mistakes.. just to be sure..)**

**Reviews are certainly appreciated, so feel free! :)**


	12. Chapter 12

**_Fish in the sea, you know how I feel_**

**_River runnin' free, you know how I feel_**

**_Blossom on the tree, you know how I feel_**

**_It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life for me,_**

**_And I'm feelin' good_**

**_-Feeling Good; Various Artists_**

* * *

"I didn't mean to hit him!" Mr. Seneca Crane, the AP Science teacher bites his nails; showing a large amount of flamboyance in his concern. His hip juts out a bit as he rests a bony, suit-covered elbow on the equally as scrawny hip. Clove resists rolling her eyes, remaining focused on the blooming purple spot underneath one of Cato's dark blue eyes, right on his soft cheek.

"I know, Mr. Crane."  
"I really didn't see him standing there, I would've been more cautious if I had!"  
"I believe that, Mr. Crane." Clove fumbles around the sterile nurse's office, seeing as the woman herself had failed to arrive. She rips out a small Ziploc bag as Seneca rambles on nervously, not wanting to be ratted out to Principle Snow in fear of losing his job. Like Snow would care if a student was hit by a door. He hardly gave a shit about anyone, and sometimes Clove forgot to wonder what had happened for him to be that way.

She pours a fair share of ice into the bag, releasing all the air before sliding the bag closed.

"Oh, please forgive me for the damage, I wish I'd seen him walking up."  
"Mr. Crane, you hit him with a door. Not a truck," Clove says impassively, focusing only on the bruise as she tends to it the way she'd tend to one of Jason's skinned knees.

Cato grits his teeth at the cold ice pressing onto his wounded flesh. It felt close to falling face first onto the frozen over pond in the park when winter sports season rolled around and he was off from practice. He remembers going ice skating with a clumsy Annie, who turned out to only be balanced on pointe shoes. He remembers the way the chips of shredded ice would freeze to his cheek, but melt on contact and Annie would think he was crying. He remembers how rosy his cheeks would get when the air swirled around him and instantly he was homesick again.

But as Clove gently mashes the cool bag against his cheek, he feels as close to home as he can get. It was like his mother healing him, a delicate hand working to mend the wound. Cato suddenly realizes how grateful he is to have Clove as his friend—she was his friend, right?

"Ugh, no, no, I'm going to lose my job!" Seneca grips at his jet black hair, worried more about his 'sparkling' reputation than any other occurrence in the room. "This is bad.. this is really ba—!"  
"Shut. _UP_." Clove concludes his useless whining, causing the man to halt completely; tensing and lowering himself into the nurse's chair. Clove was rather frightening, and her uncle was as well. One more word out of him and they'd both be sending in complaints.

Cato looks down at his lap, seeing one of Clove's hands on his knee as she leans over him. He smiles a bit and she catches his eyes: one swollen, one normal. And while he's very capable of holding a gaze without getting unnerved, she is quite the contrary. Averting her gaze quicker than a flash of lightning, she brings the ice away from his face. "The bruise is getting better, just keep holding this to it."  
She slaps the pudgy Ziploc bag into his hand.

She stands from her spot then, escorting herself to the door slowly. "We should get going, class started 4 minutes ago.."

* * *

Clove taps her pencil on her mathematics text book, refusing to lift the cover and look at the horrifying pages. People weren't looking at her funny like usual when she squinted at the numbers. That was what she liked about the English alphabet. It ended at 26 letters while numbers went on forever.

Eventually, when the teacher asks her if everything is alright; she flips open the book to find where her notes were jammed into her text book, directly on the page she needed to look at. "Yeah, everything's fine." She skims easily through the directions, but hesitates when the problem shifts into view. Most of it was nerves, but she palms her forehead and hisses. _Stupid math, _she growls in her head. Clove hates being bad at something academic.  
"Miss Clove, let me ask you again, is there a problem?" High school teachers liked torturing her.  
"No, Mrs. Undersee." But Madge's mom was softer than that.  
"Honey, don't be afraid to ask me a question. I'm a teacher, it's what I do!" The woman sits at her desk, flipping through paperwork and licking her thumb to pick up the pages.

Clove wants to fall asleep as the next hour rolls around. She lugs herself through math equations carelessly, more focused on the clock than getting a good grade on this dumb assignment. Only a few more minutes.

…

"Guess what?" Johanna announces, sounding a bit excited.  
"What?" Clove mumbles, sliding her math text book into her locker and removing a granola bar, the kind with strawberry yogurt drizzled on top and caked around the bottom. She rips down the center of the wrapper and reveals the bar, taking a large bite as Johanna continues.

"That Cato kid is in chemistry with me. He said _hello, Johanna_."  
Clove nods, making a sound of approval. "You're in chemistry together, huh?"

Johanna breaks off a piece of Clove's granola bar, popping it into her mouth before shaking her head saying 'yes.' "He sits behind me with some girl I don't know. She wasn't very nice to him, though."

Clove's brain sparks with an idea. "Hey, could you do me a favor?"  
"Sure," Johanna replies with a impassive shrug of the shoulders. Clove smiles, wrapping up her snack and putting it back in its rightful place, "Just.. give me the skinny every now and then on how his English is turning up. I'm trying to mentor him a bit and I don't know if I'm benevolent or not."

Johanna almost forgets to smirk. Clove's never been so constantly worried about anyone except for her baby brother, it was good to see her working hard at leading a person to success—she would be a great teacher someday. "Alright, whatever makes you happy."  
"Great. Now you'd better get to French,_ au revoir_!" Clove teases, knowing how much her friend dreads French class. Johanna was American, she didn't see why she had to take another language. {**Translation:** _Goodbye!_}  
"Ferme ta bouche," The raven-haired girl mumbles, rolling her eyes and walking down a pristine hallway, following the direction Cashmere happened to be walking to. {**Translation: **_Shut your mouth._}

Clove didn't understand that much French, but regarding Hanna's cross attitude, the translation had to have been somewhere along the lines of telling her to fuck off.  
She had her own language course, she was currently taking Latin; but had the same attitude as Johanna towards learning another language. She didn't speak anything but English to anyone. The only other language that she might be interested in at the moment might be—

A hand falls on her shoulder and she spins around rapidly, none-to calmly gasping at the shock. But Cato is looking down at her, pointing to a word on his schedule. She sighs in relief, but scolds him softly, "Don't _do _that!" She whisper-yells. He blinks. She smacks her forehead, snatching the paper and looking at the word. "History."

History. Clove's next class was history. A sliver of a smile slid onto her face, but disappeared in the next second. "Come with me."

* * *

Cato feels the temperature change as he and Clove enter another room, where kids are conversing with one another about things Cato couldn't translate and subsequently, didn't care to. Clove waves to who he assumes is the teacher, who rises and stalks over to them.

"Who is this, Miss Clove?"  
"Uh.. Cato. He's an exchange student, from Poland."  
The teacher nods his head in recognition. "Oh, right, I heard you were going to arrive."

Cato simply shakes the man's hand, realizing how much taller he is than the teacher. Even Clove is taller than him—because Clove wasn't really short, the others she was compared to were just freakishly tall, like Cato.

"Would you like me to re-arrange seating so that you can sit by each other?"  
Clove switches her gaze to Cato's, who is staring at her with naturally big eyes. When he doesn't say a word, the teacher's smile falters a bit. "He doesn't speak any English, does he?"  
Clove cringes. "Only a little.. I-I'm teaching him as best I can.."

In reality, Cato knew a fair amount of English. He'd just lost it all as soon as he graduated from gimnazjum because he'd honestly never thought it would pop up in his life again. Of course, Clove knows none of this.  
"Does this mean we need a translator?"  
"Uh.. I can do it, I guess," Clove confirms, pulling out her iPad mini from her backpack and opening a tab, pulling up Google Translate.

History flew by much too fast for Cato, he took his time in writing each English word written on the long horizontal white-board down with a nervous hand, he was sure he spelled some things wrong but he'd get Clove to help him later. He was sitting next to her in his own desk, she was scribbling on her lined paper profusely, her handwriting was neat in the beginning but slowly went haywire as she continued copying each and every word.  
Cato finally knew something else about Clove: she hates taking notes.

The teacher rambles on and on, drawing a tree diagram to breakdown the order of whatever they were learning. Clove passes him a slip of paper sneakily.  
_  
Jestem znudzony, _it says. He tries not to smile as she looks over at him briefly before returning her gaze to the lesson. {**Translation: **_I'm bored._} He writes just below her sentence._ Dlaczego? _{**Translation:** _Why?_}  
_Czy nie?_ {**Translation:** _Aren't you?_}

Cato catches the teacher glancing at them, also noticing some other students beginning to stare. He attempts not being too suspicious, _Nie bardzo. Jestem po prostu pisząc gówno w dół. _{**Translation: **_Not really. I'm just writing shit down._}  
Clove opens the note and he side-glances at her as she types in each letter carefully, being sure to get the symbols correct. Her cheeks puff out in stifled laughter and this time he does grin.  
_Nie bierz tego źle, ale to dobrze się komunikować ze sobą. _is her response. {**Translation: **_Don't take this the wrong way, but it feels good to communicate with you._} Cato feels the corners of his lips twitch up instinctively, only a bit but it was enough to let Clove know the feelings were mutual and that he hadn't taken it wrong at all.

Class wasn't so boring now. That is, until a wrinkled hand snatches up the paper from Clove's petite hands. She seems just as shocked as he does.  
"Do we have something to share with the class, Miss Clove and Mister Cato?"

The classroom is filled with silent snickers, but the pair only smirks after a few moments.

The teacher furrows his brow upon realizing he cannot understand the language and Clove is thankful that she hadn't tried writing in English. Not that anything they'd written was significantly embarrassing, she just wasn't ready to express she and Cato's.. friendship? He was her friend, right?

* * *

Gym came up and Clove and Cato were together once again, they only had 2 classes together. They were doing basic gymnastics today and of course, Cato had experience in that too.

Clove learns another thing about foreign exchange students: it's really embarrassing when they're a guy, and they're more flexible than you when doing the splits. Clove winces in slight disgust when noticing that Cato's right leg split is so flexible, that it might be able to go even further. "Ow, ow.. ow..! Okay, get up now Cato, we get it, you don't have a spine, okay.. ow.."

…

Clove and Cato push through a set of doors after being let out of a taxi. A gust of cool, recycled air hits their faces as they walk inside. A banner hangs on one side of the cool, large hallway. It has handprints of all different colors on it and a word: _Welcome! _

A row of small Kindergarteners strolls down the busy hallway with backpacks over their shoulders, talking to each other loudly and rushing out the door to car pool lot outside. Clove peeks over the heads of multiple children, waiting for Mrs. Hawthorne's 2nd grade class to arrive. Clove doesn't notice Cato drifting away from her in the crowd of little kids, waving to some of them along the way.

She finds her way to the classroom where the kids are piled up in a line, waiting to exit the classroom. Jason is in the back of the line, talking to his friend Posy. She smiles and waves when he notices her, he runs up and hugs her tightly. "Hey, how was school?" She asks, stroking a hand through his hair once.

"Okay. I painted a picture for you in art class!"  
"You did?"  
He nods proudly before Mrs. Hawthorne calls for Clove, who holds up one finger to her little brother as a sign of _give me a minute._

"Is there something wrong?"

The woman shakes her head. "No, not at all. Jason's been a sweet little boy as always, his grades are phenomenal." Clove grins to herself. That was something she enjoyed hearing, that her brother was doing well. She had always wished for him to be successful.

"Which is why I want to make a suggestion that should be good for him.." Clove raises an eyebrow as Mrs. Hawthorne beams at her. "I think you should take him out of the class for awhile. Give him a mental vacation." She takes a minute to call _class dismissed_, and the children all file out—except for Jason and Posy, who stay behind over by the book nook, waiting for their guardians.

"You want me to _what_?"  
"Take him out of school for awhile."  
"How.. long?"  
"Until he wants to come back."

Clove almost laughs. Scoffs. Something. But instead, she remains quiet and still. "He's a kid in 2nd grade, why would he want to come back to school? I can't take him away.. I mean, I'll end up having to drag him back kicking and screaming once he's used to not having to come.."  
Mrs. Hawthorne just smiles on, packing up her things into her overlarge teacher bag. "It's just a suggestion, dear. Come on Posy, we don't want to be late for your soccer game!"

Posy gasps in excitement and then quickly hugs Jason goodbye. "Bye Jasie, see you tomorrow!" Clove's little brother then proceeds to stand up and rush over to his sister, taking her hand as Posy begins tugging her mother out the door. "

"Can we go home now? I want to tell Cato something." The small blonde boy asks.  
"Oh, Cato's right h—" Clove's eyes widen as she looks out the door frame and around the room, finding no trace of the blonde. "Are you kidding me," She mumbles.

…

Clove cuts up strawberries into a clear bowl, humming a bit as Cato reads through all the notes he took. She had taken the time to type them up on translate for him to study. She smiles as he finishes reading, shutting her laptop that she allowed him to borrow and pushing it aside.  
She chuckles and plops Cool-Wip whipped cream over the fuchsia fruit with a large spoon, licking off the splatters on her fingers when finished. She grabs a fork, beginning to make her way to the table; but bites her lip. It was always nice to share, and it was her job to make Cato feel at home. She swipes another fork out of the drawer.

He shakes his head when she offers him some, having begun on his mathematics homework. Clove chews on a strawberry, furrowing her brow and picking up a strawberry with her clean fingers. She smirks evilly.

Grasping his short hair, she turns his head to her, giving herself time to admire his shocked expression before attempting to shove the strawberry in his mouth. They fall out of their chairs and land on the floor with a thud, Cato finally relents and takes the strawberry between his lips and biting into the fleshy fruit. Clove smiles, using his own gesture on him by patting his head. "Good boy."  
Instead of deeming the moment as strange, or awkward; both begin to keen over in uncontrollable laughter. Clove collapses onto Cato, unable to hold herself up anymore. She feels his body rumbling with chuckles, but she doesn't care enough to be embarrassed about being practically sprawled over him.

Yeah. They were friends.

"Guys, not in the kitchen."  
Clove screams slightly and flails as she flies off of Cato, instantly stolen from her laughing fit. Her hands slap onto her now red cheeks as Haymitch walks around the island, making his way to the refrigerator. "Uncle Haymitch, it's—"  
"Not what I think, I know. I saw the whole thing from the corner, calm down." He laughs to himself, Clove scowls. He takes a beer out of the top shelf of the refrigerator, shutting the cold door before rummaging through a drawer to find a bottle opener.  
The brown-eyed girl helps Cato off the floor, and he sits back in his chair. She reaches over to eat another strawberry, popping it into her mouth.

"Well, to change the subject, I got a letter from the Harlem Ice Rink. They said they'd love to have you back for the new figure skating season."

The brunette's frame slacks a bit. She hadn't figure skated since she was 11 years old, when she quit. Figure skating had always been something she was good at, something for her to do. She wouldn't be professional, nor did she want to, but she did enjoy doing it. She sighs as Haymitch glances at her, popping off the thin metal cap on his brownish-yellow bottle whilst waiting for a reply.

She crosses her arms, looking at her feet. "I don't want to compete again."  
"Then just do recreational," He offers, taking a chug of his beverage. "C'mon, Clo. You were always so proud when you did some little spinny thing on the ice, you shouldn't let your OCD keep you from doing things you enjoy."

She contemplates the thought, the longing to start up again chugging through her veins and popping in her stomach. The more he brought it up the more she wanted to do it. She huffs. "I don't think my skates still fit."  
Clove can see her uncle holding back on cheering in success. "Hell, we'll pick up a new pair tomorrow!"

She snickers a bit, turning to see Cato smiling at her. "You skate?" She resists on over-celebrating his ability to understand at least part of the previous conversation.  
She nods, beaming ever so softly at the ground before meeting his eyes once more. "I guess so."

Haymitch takes another sip of alcohol, giving a fleeting look to the digital clock on the microwave. He nearly spits out his drink, managing to swallow before wiping his lips and running for his jacket. "Jay! You're going to be late for your dentist's appointment, c'mon!"  
"What?!" Jason's tiny voice rings through the home, obviously dreading the words.

* * *

**Bonjour! ^.^ So, there was lots of weird Clato in this chapter.. I don't know how it'll flesh out in this story, but don't be surprised if I have trouble writing romance... I'll try my best! **

**I hope you liked this one, I had fun writing it; and I'd love to hear what you think!  
**


	13. Chapter 13

**Bonjour, it's me, Emma, rising from the dead.  
**

**I'm sorry about being gone for so long. I don't think anyone cares why, so I'll just get on with the chapter.**

**I'm really not confident with this one at all. I'm very disappointed with it and very unhappy at the moment, it'd actually almost be better for you to not read this at all. :/**

**Thanks. **

* * *

_**It's a long day living in reseda  
There's a freeway runnin' through the yard  
And I'm a bad boy 'cause I don't even miss her  
I'm a bad boy for breakin' her heart**_

_**And I'm free, free fallin' (fallin')**_

_**-Free Fallin'; Various Artists**_

* * *

Jason hides behind Clove nervously, big eyes peeking over her shoulder as they sit in the colorful waiting room. He watches as his sister flips through a magazine, making sounds of disgust when seeing images of Kim Kardashian—or any of the Kardashians, really. She slaps away his blonde locks as they tickle the crook of her neck, "Please stop hiding behind me and sit in your chair like a normal little boy."

"What if they see me?!" He wisps dramatically, clutching her shoulder with one hand and holding onto one of her braids with the other.  
"They already saw you when we checked you in."

"Jason Kentwell?" A woman steps out in a sea-foam green dental outfit with her redish-brown hair pulled back behind her head in a loose bun, holding a clipboard and a blue pen. She was smiling from ear to ear, and didn't look frightening at all. But Jason screams to himself, crouching even further behind Clove.

"It's your turn, Jay," The brunette tosses the wrinkled, frequently read magazine aside, facing her brother as best she can. He looks petrified, his scrawny little knees shaking; but Clove has no mercy. Not after returning here ever 7 months and going through the same shit.  
She grabs his 6 year old body, throwing him over her shoulder when he doesn't expect it. "Agh!" He kicks and punches at her back, "Hey, let go of me!"

Parents and children are watching as Jason wriggles around, eventually grabbing a hold of the edge of the wall and holding tight. Clove yanks hard to tear him loose, but his small hands are willing to go completely white instead of simply letting go. Eventually he looses his grip.  
She sets him on the ground, but realizes her mistake once she's already made it when he shoots off in the other direction, speedily making his way through the corridor. The hygienist looks shocked as she clutches her clipboard close.

Clove chases after him, screaming 'no, Jason!' as he weaves through people. She manages to catch up to him, grabbing his collar. He squeals and she fails to notice the amount of people staring and newspapers sinking to reveal judging or surprised expressions.

She practically puts on a circus while dragging her little brother to the back room, the hygienist tentatively following them and watching cautiously for flying limbs.

"Clovey let go, let_ go_!"  
"Stop resisting!"

After a bit of struggling, she manages to force Jason into a blue dental chair, the hygienist snapping a sea foam-green tinted bib around his neck. He looks at her, scared as the red-haired woman announces she'll return in a minute. He presses his back into the chair, she grabs his small hand, "Hey, stop it, Mr. Melodramatic, you're gonna be fine."

Jason had been to the dentist numerous times, but still managed fear each time he was sat in one of the blue leather chairs. But, this was his first cavity, and he'd only heard bad things from his schoolmates. Clove never lied to her little brother, so she hadn't answered when he asked if it was gonna hurt.

"Ma'am?" Clove suspects 'ma'am' was her and turns around to the red-haired woman. "I would recommend he uses laughing gas, but it's your choice."  
The brunette nods, silently coming up with a proper response as she had never heard of 'laughing gas.' "Sure, but.. what is it, exactly? I'm from the 90's and haven't had a cavity in years.." She laughs awkwardly, the woman offering a sugary smile before explaining.

Soon, Jason has a big, rubber pink structure over his nose and he informs everyone in an abnormally loud announcement that it smells like peaches. Slowly but surely, Clove tries to stand and leave the room due to the eerie sound of a drill going into a child's tooth; but his hand stops her every time.

"_Staaaaay_!" He yells, sounding in pain.  
"I have to go to the bathroom."  
"Can you wait?" His voice was beginning to slur a bit, the gas spreading like an infection in his tiny system. He begins feeling light-headed, the ceiling above swirling a bit as if he was looking through a kaleidoscope.

She agrees without a real choice and slumps back into the chair, watching as a clown fish and his sun go in and out of a sea anemone.

There is a sudden burst of laughter from Jason, Clove's eyebrow raises. "What?" But he doesn't reply, instead just giggles more with his knees raising into the air. She rolls her eyes.

"It's working! The laughing gas is working!" The hygienist jokes, smiling as she dumps a few tools onto the counter behind Jason's seat.

"Does he even know what's going on anymore?" The brown-eyed teen wonders aloud, a thought of danger nagging at the back of her mind relentlessly.

"Probably not, but that's pretty much why we give it to them," The woman shrugs grabbing a Q-tip with numbing gel on it and telling Jason to open wide.

* * *

Cato's ears feel stuffed while sitting in the parking lot of Jason's dentist office. It was still cold out, only being late January; but all he wore was a light jacket. The cold didn't affect him in the way it would affect a normal person, was he lucky? He wasn't sure.

Soft amounts of snow pile up on the pavements, dotting the black streets with a more comforting white.

"Clove naprawdę cię lubi, wiesz. Nie zrobiłem jej uśmiech jak jak ona to robi, gdy z tobą w długim czasie." Haymitch announces into the thick air of the car, listening to the gentle hum of the crackling radio and the chug of the engine beneath them. {**Translation: **_Clove really likes you, you know. I haven't made her smile like she does when with you since I came to her 3rd grade school play._}

Cato's lips pull into one corner of his mouth, looking incredibly doubtful. There were times where Clove acted like she liked him, but then there were times where she seemed as though she couldn't care less.

Cato gazes over at him as he switches the car into reverse and begins backing up because apparently, Haymitch couldn't just sit patiently and wait for an hour and a half. "Ona nie zawsze działają tak, jak ona mnie lubi," He shrugs his broad shoulders, leaning back against his seat. {**Translation: **_She doesn't always act like she likes me._}  
"Wiem o tym, ale to tylko ona." He replies. {**Translation: **_I know that, but that's just her._}

The conversation goes by the wayside as the car hovers down the busy roads, after all; there was no order when driving in New York. It was more like cramming yourself and your car onto any spot of pavement you could find. There were no lines on the roads, slivers for curbs.. he would hate driving here. Luckily, he might be able to get used to it if the time came because he'd just begun learning to drive a car.  
"Jak jest twoja matka?" Haymitch asks once the car is rolling smoothly down the backroads. {**Translation: **_How is your mother?_}

Truth was, Cato didn't know how his mother was doing. He felt ashamed for ignoring her, but ever since the line had went dead during their last conversation he'd been reluctant to bother her any further. He wonders why she'd gone ahead and sent in a video audition for him, he'd never planned on moving away from her. She hated being alone, he adored his mother so much that it hurt him to leave, even if it meant he would get a chance he'd always hoped for.

He just shrugs, shaking his head.

The small talk ends and Cato looks out the window, watching sleet fly past the glass as they travel leisurely down the road. Haymitch realizes he can't hold up a conversation with the boy quite yet, not until he knows him better than he already does.

Haymitch had long ago met Cato. Not that the boy remembered at all. He was only a little thing, maybe about 3 and a half.

There was nothing in the world he'd give up (besides maybe his niece and nephew) to forget the shag of whitish blonde hair, the short stature, the infectious laugh that the boy used to have, the big and intense blue eyes. Now his hair had been cut and had darkened only a small bit, his stature was anything but short and small, his laugh was much lower but he still managed to keep the blue eyes all that time.

Somehow, in the back of his mind; he wishes for Clove to find a life with someone like him. She deserved someone like this after all she'd been through, someone to show her that she was loved.

…

"Cóż, nie są. Poszło szybciej niż się spodziewałem." {**Translation:** _Well, there they are. That took less time then I expected._}  
Haymitch starts the car once more as the door opens, Jason touching his bottom lip. "It's puffy!" He cries to his sister.  
"It's not puffy, it just feels that way," She says in monotone, strapping him into his booster seat.

Haymitch backs out of the parking lot, checking behind him for cars.

Out on the main road, Jason falls asleep and Clove decides to bring up what Mrs. Hawthorne said earlier in the day. "Uncle Haymitch, Mrs. Hawthorne said that she wants us to take Jay out of school for a little bit."

Haymitch makes a scoffing noise, rolling his eyes with a shake of the head, "After all this time, she's still trying to get me to homeschool the kid."  
"Homeschool?" Clove raises her eyebrows as they stop at a red light. ""She wants _you_ to homeschool him?"

His hands lift off the wheel, making a gesture, "That's what I said!"

Clove wonders if there's something else going on. Jason never complained of bullies, his grades were never bad, what could be happening?

"I told her you'd been in public school your entire existance and you turned out fine; but she thinks he has 'special needs.' I don't know about you but I think she's calling him dumb, I take offense to that. He can't be worse than my brother in law."

Haymitch took great delight in calling his brother in law stupid. Clove didn't mind it, her father was kind of bone-headed in her most recent memories of him and she hated the fact that she had his eyes. These dark, soulful, chocolate brown eyes. She couldn't get away from him, he was _part_ of her. Even if he only wanted what was best for her and Jason, and he had saved them because of that; she had trouble appreciating his actions and instead was angry at him for letting her go.

It just wasn't _fair._

"Well, whatever. We don't have to agree to it."

…

Clove runs her fingers over new, pearly white figure skates, her stomach jumping a bit. She was actually genuinely excited to begin skating again. It wasn't exactly a passion that she would die without, but it was something she enjoyed very much. She had Jason slumped against her, breathing onto her shoulder in his little nap as she browses through the store.

"Are you finding everything okay?" A perky voice asks from behind her.  
"So far.. I might need some socks for fitting, though."

The girl nods in agreement, the sweet smile remaining on her lips. "Sure."

Clove feels Jason stir, and as expected she hears a fussing noise afterwards. He whines her name, rubbing his eyes and trying to get even closer to her. Now she knows that novocain makes him tired. "I wanna go home.." He says groggily.

"I know, I just need to pick up a pair of skates," She replies, and much to her dismay he groans in disagreement. She feels him squirming and sighs in frustration, but hears someone say her name.

Turning around she spots Cato, gesturing for her to hand her little brother to him until she's finished. She kind of smiles as she slowly hands Jason to him. "I'll be finished in a second, go with Cato." The small blonde makes a slight noise of confusion but is too tired to explore any more on it, and rests his head on Cato's shoulder.

He goes to sit down and Clove returns to picking out her skates, finally receiving a pair of socks. After a minute of decision making, she slips out a box of plain white skates and sits on a chair a few feet across from where Haymitch and Cato have settled down. She begins bundling up the socks and puts them on her toes, rolling them up her legs slowly.

She looks out in front of her through her eyelashes as her little brother sleeps calmly against Cato, surprisingly comfortable with him. Jason had been pretty snug with Marvel in the past years, but it had taken quite awhile. He was unusually protective of his older sister, and dating was a touchy category. If Jason didn't like the boy, Clove wasn't allowed to date them.

The relationship between these two had escaladed quickly, from her little brother fearing Cato to sleeping on his shoulder and hugging himself tight to him.  
Clove liked that. Cato was a good role model for Jason—so far. She didn't know that much about him yet, all she really knew was that he was Polish, a dancer, sweet, outgoing—

_Stop. _Clove scolds herself. _You sound so stupid and lovesick.**  
No I don't! I mean.. I can't hate everybody..  
**__Don't forget what happened last time you let yourself fall for someone. Wouldn't want that to happen to him too, would you?_**_  
_**

Clove often has arguments with herself. She grumbles and completely shuts out her conflicting feelings, she never really connected or agreed with the positive part of her mind, anyway. In fact, she liked denying that those kinds of feelings were even within a small part of her personality.  
**  
**

She quickly puts on a skate and ties the laces, wiggling her toes a few times before slipping on its twin.

She walks around a few times, rocking back and forth on the blades.  
"Are those a good size? I might have an 8 and a half in the back if those are too small." Clove shakes her head, sitting down once more. "No, these work fine."

The brunette places the skates back into the large lavender box once they've been removed from her feet, she slides the box onto the counter.

"Would you like me to sharpen your skates?"  
"Sure."

Haymitch slips out his credit card to prepare for payment, "Anything else you want to get before we go?"

Clove just nods, guessing it wouldn't be a bad idea to get a few outfits instead of squeezing into old ones. She picks out some figure skating leggings; black with curvy light green streaks rippling up both sides and a lavender pair as well. To go with the first pair of leggings she chooses a shiny emerald green leotard with a peplum waist-line.

She tries getting a silver leo with 3 quarter sleeves, but ends up being a few inches too short to reach the top rack on the wall. But before she can simply ask for help, Cato shows up out of literally _nowhere_ and grabs it for her.

Clove beams only a little bit, thanking him and slinging the leo over her arm with the rest of the outfits. Cato was oddly altruistic, even if he didn't look it. Before she'd gotten to know him a bit more, she really did expect him to be some arrogant ass just by the way he looked. Big, tall, and... well, good looking. Even the straightest men on earth couldn't deny that Cato was good looking, and as a result neither could Clove.  
But he was sensitive and gentle, and she didn't know how he was with people back in his country, but he'd done so much for her in the past week and no matter how much Clove liked to doubt it, she was already cherishing that more than she would prefer.

* * *

Cato had never once been in Jason's room.

It was very messy, painted dark blue, with toys scattered all about the floor. He sidesteps a pile of action figures a avoids a puppy Pillow Pet to near the small twin bed. He carefully lays Jason's napping body onto the mattress, feeling weak limbs slide off of his body.

The 6 year old eyes crack open a little bit, he looks like he's about the cry. He asks where he's going, but Cato doesn't understand what was said and decides to just go get Clove.

"No," Jason sobs out, whimpering in disagreement. He pulls Cato's hand to his shaggy ash-blonde hair, rolling onto his side. He hugs the other's large arm tightly, like a stuffed animal, wrapping his legs around it and sighing shortly.

Cato is stuck. Jason will not let him leave. He has no choice but to sit at the edge of the bed and simply wait for Jay to fall asleep once more.

The room is barely illuminated, only with evening light pouring through the blinds and spilling onto the stained floorboards. Jason is quiet for awhile, but then begins speaking. "I dreamed about my mommy," He mumbles softly. "Clovey says our mom didn't like us though, she didn't treat us right and stuff so dad made us go."

Cato can't reply, but he could provide comfort. His fingers slide through the blonde hair under his hand, he just lets Jason talk.

"I don' really remembu'h the whole dream but..." The word were extremely muddled after that.

Cato was frustrated, all he could decipher was _Clovey. _After awhile, he stops being able to listen; Jay's now non-meaningful words falling on deaf ears. Now the 6 year old was simply rambling, saying pointless things much like his Uncle after drinking too much.

Soon enough, he manages to fall asleep and Cato carefully slips his arm away. Jason seems to be a genuinely sound sleeper, not budging or stirring at all as the older boy leaves the room quietly on his toes.

He shuts the door a bit, leaving a small crack and then proceeding down the hallway. He turns into Clove's room, finding that a lavender lava lamp is on, a radio is gently playing _Can't Help Falling In Love_ by Elvis, and Clove has fallen asleep on her bed awkwardly with her journal dangling from her hand just barely.

He puts on a pair of pajamas and then lays down, trying to welcome sleep but he instead remains staring at the ceiling.

_Like a river flows surely to the sea_

_Darling so it goes_

_Some things are meant to be_

_Take my hand, take my whole life too_

_For I can't help falling in love with you_

He was so tired, but something kept him awake. He wasn't sure what it was, or where it came from. All he knew was that he couldn't be awake much longer or he wouldn't be ready to dance tomorrow, and that wouldn't be such a good thing.

He forces his eyes to close, clearing his mind. A small smile crosses his lips at Clove's odd mumbling in her sleep, he found Clove completely adorable. Kind of like that girl Rue, but older. She had a sweet face and really wasn't as harsh as she liked to act. Cato never understood why someone would want to be any different than how they were, maybe it was because he kind of sucked at acting and no matter how hard he himself tried, he couldn't change.

He had continued looking through Clove's scrapbook, saw pictures of her dressed as Snow White while running around Disneyland, saw her at a school dance with two of the girls he'd seen at that party, saw her sleeping under the Christmas tree around the holidays, and saw her hanging upside down on the monkey bars with pigtails and overalls.. that was the Clove he wanted to know, the Clove he was so close to meeting.

_Like a river flows surely to the sea_

_Darling so it goes_

_Some things are meant to be_

_Take my hand, take my whole life too_

_For I can't help falling in love with you_

He'd meet that girl someday.

* * *

The waves kept rolling up on shore and Clove breathes in the chilled air, feeling the cold swell in her throat.

She watched as the waves moved seamlessly across one another, black against black. They rose confidently against the wind as if to defy its force. Their war-cry was but a splash on shore and perhaps a breath, a lingering sigh of sorts, as if they'd truly grown bored of the crashing waves. The experience was paradisiacal, otherworldly as she'd never been alone on a beach, surrounded by soft but grainy sands full of hollow shells and even a bit of dirt.  
Every now and then, ripples echoed across the ominous waters; black edged with shadows in the decreasing light, large rings were widening outwards until there was nothing but the faint whisper from the gentle winds carrying the luscious scent of the sea...

Suddenly, a pair of arms were around her and it felt unnatural as her stomach flipped. Was someone kidnapping her? But she did nothing but recline into the arms, seemingly comfortable and expectant. She spoke, saying, "There's still glitter on your arms." A giggle escapes her, and a chuckle behind her; rumbling against her back but there was no voice. No talking.

Something was far too familiar for Clove, something very recognizable; but what was it? _What was it?..._

Clove rises from her mattress slowly as her body had twitched her back into reality. She hated those fucking dreams that left her with more questions than answers, weren't dreams supposed to give you glimpses of your future?  
So alarmed was she by the feeling of familiarity and the confusion in which her dream had presented her with that she feels compelled to roll over to talk to Cato. She found comfort in knowing he was listening, and even more comfort in knowing that if she screwed up in explaining, he wouldn't understand anyway.

But he wasn't in his bed.

She walks down the creaky hallway, peeking around and wrinkling her brow in confusion, little whispers slipping through her lips. She stops, glancing around the corner into the kitchen. Cato is there, sitting oddly in a chair—he looks the polar opposite of comfortable. There was a bowl of strawberries in front of him, as well as a small cherry dragonfruit Danimals smoothie.

She doesn't bother to call for him, she could already tell he had something on his mind. She shuffles into the kitchen quietly, deciding not to explore the thought any longer.

She knew he wouldn't be returning to school with her today, but instead tomorrow. Juggling his final years in high school _again_ and his life as a college student must be kind of a let down. He'd technically already passed the curriculum back in his own country, which was why college was an option, but not here. Here, he still had 2 years left at only 16 years old.

Pouring milk into a glass, she clears her throat, "Thanks for taking care of Jason. It was a big help.."

He just shrugs, ripping off the leaves of a strawberry one by one. He looks tired, eyes glassy and watering and face even paler than usual.

Clove stares at the counter for awhile, only moving to take out a strawberry Poptart packet from the bread box. There are some times where it was like she could say everything in the world to Cato, and there were others where there was nothing at all for her to say.

So instead, she throws her Poptarts into the toaster and neglects them for awhile, sipping her milk as she goes to the table. It was very early, the sun just barely over the horizon. Clove had never seen a sunrise outside of her house, she kind of hoped she could one day but didn't really mention those things to people anymore.

Marvel had taken her for plenty of sunsets, but there was something more comforting in a sunrise—the feel of starting a new day and erasing away yesterday. Clove loved that, even if yesterday would never truly leave her alone.

Haymitch had already been up long before either of them, she could tell; his body was still trained in military time. He'd been playing his cello and watching re-runs of _Everybody Loves Raymond_ since 4 in the morning. He was still doing the same thing, his bedroom door failing to block the sound of a bow against perfectly tuned strings.

Clove grabs the television remote, pressing down on the red power button and watching as the news pops up. She changes it to morning cartoons, Road Runner races across the screen as she returns to the kitchen. Placing her glass of milk down, she revisits her Poptarts as they fling up and halfway out of the toaster. The smell of artificial strawberry flavoring infiltrates the room, Clove forgets to wrap her fingers with a paper towel before attempting to remove her breakfast. Her fingertips were scalding as she quickly tosses the Poptarts onto a paper plate. She jumps for a second, holding her reddened fingers.

"Yow!" She hisses, Cato's eyes look up at her quickly but he removes his gaze when she spins back around.

Clove—still grudgingly—picks up the paper plate and makes her way to the table. She doesn't greet Cato anymore than she already has, doesn't confront him at all, just simply sits.

There isn't any acknowledgment for the next 5 minutes or so, Cato finishes his strawberries and Clove eats her breakfast pastries, watching as the Flintstones appears on the large screen.

The morning was peaceful, quiet, and for the first time since 5th grade, Clove had a calm school morning.

* * *

"Wrócę do ciebie nieco później. Baw się dobrze, dziecko." Haymitch says, patting Cato's shoulder as the black car pulls up in front of ABA. {**Translation:** _I will be back to pick you up a bit later. Enjoy yourself, kid._}

The blonde climbs out of the vehicle, sliding his feet back into his slippers with Jason waving a hearty goodbye from the back seat. "Bye-bye!" He wasn't going to school today, Haymitch decided to keep him home for an unknown reason.

Cato smiles back at him, saying "Goodbye" in return with an unused voice. He'd said just about nothing through these past days, he couldn't wait to be able to talk. Be able to respond to people at school, to be able to converse freely among the American citizens, and to be able to talk to Clove. He had so much to tell her already, mainly about her own life rather than his.

The car speeds off as soon as he steps onto the pavement and shuts the door. Instead of being intimidated by the large array of buildings, Cato begins walking. Someone with a violin case walks by, nodding in acknowledgment and waving once, salute style before rushing off into the music division. There was a posse of ballerinas, their hair tied up in neat buns and sports' jackets over their delicate shoulders, eating small plates of undressed salad and sipping on ice water cheekily, judging the looks of many other dancers surrounding them.

One of the girls smiled and put on a flirty look when he passed, he simply said 'hello' and continued passing by them.

"Gay or straight?" He hears from one of the other girls, but doesn't comprehend.  
"... straight." Is the response after a few seconds, Cato didn't know what they were talking about.

A few other boys that are dressed in similar attire to himself come by, not many of them noticing him. Whatever. Doesn't much matter, he's just here to dance; not make friends.

But just as the thought crosses his mind, a boy about the same height bumps into him. "Woah!" He shouts, his bag falling to the concrete below. "Shoot, man, I'm so sorry!"

Cato shakes his head, not saying anything but instead picking up the stranger's bag and handing it to him. The boy had dark-bronze hair that looked to be styled effortlessly, light green eyes and lightly tanned skin. He was the same height as Cato and had the same amount of strength, finally a person that Cato could relate to.  
"You alright?" He asks. The blonde could say nothing.

Everything was quiet between them for a minute until a hand is held out to Cato's, "Well, hey, I'm Finnick. It's cool to see someone like me at the ol' ballet school." He jokes, Cato shakes his hand and says his name, leaving it blunt in the air between them.  
"Cato.. huh, that's an interesting name." Finnick shrugs, but keeps a respectable, tooth-y grin between his lips. "You seem like a nice guy, Cato. Why don't you hang around with me?"

Cato just says 'yes' like Clove told him to in these situations.  
Finnick doesn't mention the lack of speech.

…

Finnick leads Cato into a small, compressed room with a pair of bunk beds, a desk, a ballet barre hinged onto a wall, and a small closet pushed aside into a corner. A bunch of people lay on the beds; one boy with dark brown almost black hair and brown eyes dangling his top half over the edge of the upper bunk that looks utterly astonished as Cato enters the room with Finnick, a huddle of girls in blandly colored pajamas gather on the bottom bunk, one with blonde hair and brown eyes that seemed hyper and excited, another with red hair and blue eyes that looked similar to a fox, and one more with black hair and blue eyes that looked unaffected by everything.

The boy sprawled on the top bunk was first to speak up. "Well, we're being rude. We should probably introduce ourselves. That's Eliana , that's Maysilee, that's Wiress, I'm Darius, and you're hot." He announces, his brown eyes scanning over Cato with a satisfied smile. The blue-eyed teen continues mindlessly waving to everyone.

(**A/N Eliana is Foxface.. named her after someone awesome as hell, typically I'd name her Finch like everyone else.. xD**)

"Guys, this is Cato, he's new here," Finnick pats the blonde's shoulder, grinning.

The light-haired girl adjusts herself, giving a look of disdain, "How do you know that, Finn?"  
"Well, not many guys just walk around wearing_ this_, do they?"

She doesn't say another word, just plops down on the green and purple bed linens with a labored sigh.

The red-haired girl named Eliana scoots out, offering her dainty hand, "Well, hi there! I'm Eliana.." She seemed quiet and fairly young, he nods his head at her and puts his hand on hers. She shakes his hand, dipping the side her face into her shoulder shyly.

"He's not really saying much," Wiress mutters blandly, feeling the two small black buns piled neatly on each side of her head, like Mickey Mouse ears.  
"Then you two should get along great," Finnick bobs his broad shoulders once, not looking as concerned as the others. Eliana laughs a bit, dropping her pointe shoes into a ballet bag and adjusting her leotard.

Maysilee takes a sideways glance at the digital clock balanced on the window sill. "We should get going, class is going to begin soon," She says in a soft voice like Snow White, lifting herself from the bottom bunk.

Finnick looks at Cato sympathetically, "You'll grow on them."  
The blonde just smiles, ecstatic that finding a group of friends was so easy.

…

Cato walks into a cold room with mirrors lined on every wall except for the one in the back, where there are large windows covering every inch. He can see the entire city, and the hot sun almost fully risen into the sky.

He pauses for a second to hang up his bag, and ends up unintentionally catching sight of Finnick and Eliana talking out in the hallway. He looks concerned as she stares down at her feet, the red-head was very distant. He can't help his curiosity and continues to watch.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Finn cradles her cheek, looking down at her brightly tinted hair. They looked awfully close, the green-eyed boy looked at her with clear concern, Cato would dare say he loved her.  
She peeks up with blue eyes that seem to be searching for something in Cato's perspective, but, her expression quickly phases to pure disappointment as she remains void of what she was looking for. She sighs and gently pulls herself away, "Not here, Finn. Get to class."

She strolls off the other end of the hall and Finnick tries shrugging it off like he usually would, but it doesn't appear to work this time; he is clearly burdened. Cato wishes he could say something comforting—well, he could, but Finnick wouldn't get it and he wouldn't be taken seriously, so there was no point in it at all.

A man dressed in similar attire to themselves steps into the room, away from the corner he resided in. He walks—or more accurately, struts—to the head of the room, introducing himself in a way Cato cannot understand.

He simply smiles, waiting for the speech to end. Finnick looks at his reflection in one of the numerous mirrors, judging his appearance before deciding to fix his hair. He seemed to do that on most every reflective surface. Cato could tell that he was a bit too invested in himself, but he was a nice guy with good intentions.

Soon they are divided equally among the room and begin to stretch, something Cato had already completed back at Haymitch's home. Clove sure was a heavy sleeper, at least last night, he'd clunked his head quite rambunctiously a few times when stretching in the early hours of the morning and she hadn't even flinched. Just continued her slumber without care, Cato's body would never be able to sleep like that.

"Good morning, it's nice to see you all _on time_," The man greets, glaring particularly at Finnick.

Now_, _Cato couldn't decipher a word of the man's statement, but he knew a Russian accent when he heard one. The Polish are notorious for their dislike against Russians, and Cato's father had often shared details of his parents during the time of the Soviet Union when he was little. Cato himself had never met a Russian, at least not that he remembered, and he wasn't sure what to expect out of this one.

"I see we also have a new mid-year student," He fails to have a comforting grin and Cato simply waves. "It's nice to meet you, what is your name?"

"Cato," He says, offering his hand when the instructor nears him. It was odd when the man looked him over, seemingly rating his appearance and checking to see if he'd done a proper amount of training to belong here. Instantly, Cato felt the vibe of this place as soon as the man before him looked satisfied. You didn't succeed unless you had the looks, the body. Passion didn't have anything to do with it.

"Ah. I have heard about you. You come all the way from Europe, yes?"

Realization washes over Finn's features and Cato almost finds it funny, watching as the boy mouths '_oh.._'. "I will guess you do not speak much English."

Nothing was said, the instructor simply nods to himself and introduces himself with a name that is nearly impossible to pronounce.

Class began and while Cato could keep up, he didn't find it as enjoyable, maybe he was trying too hard to impress? No, it was the constant scrutinizing and the yelling and the falling, and more importantly the strange looks people were giving him. The instructor had eyes on him most of the time, a look that clearly stated his high expectations. Cato felt that if he made one mistake, he would never be excepted in the ballet world ever again. It took a long time to be excepted, and he wasn't going to let his nerves blow it for him.

He controlled his emotions, stuffing them back into his theoretical heart and deciding to not let the intimidation eat him up inside. No. Being scared was pointless when you could fight.

By the tail end of that class, Cato felt pretty satisfied with what he had done. However, the last few minutes, a woman was there. She had a blank expression, Cato would've assumed she was bored if he hadn't known better. He didn't expect her to be the one that determines his skill.

She strolls leisurely around the cool, open room, watching every one of the boys. But as soon as she came near him, he feels her icy stare on him as she stands directly 2 feet behind him. As the classical music ends, he turns to look at her. She unravels her hands from being balled up behind her and touches him. She adjusts his stature, even though his earlier stature was just like all the other boys.

"Don't slouch next time, boy. Use your shoulder-strength to hold up your arms." She walks away as the class dismisses.

It was like a thousand tiny knives hitting him. He stared out the large windows looking out over the grey city to try and put his mind on something else. He thought about where his new school was. Where Haymitch's house was. Where Clove was.

Clove. He wanted to be with Clove right now. He felt calm when with her, not overwhelmed. She never made him feel awkward or unwanted.

Finnick and Darius come grab him from his trance, announcing it was time for break.

…

Cato couldn't wait for Haymitch to pick him up. He was more than ready to go home and snooze, having come exhausted and left even more so.  
He had packed himself a container of fresh strawberries for a snack. They were satisfying to his mostly non-existant appetite.

Eliana sits next to him, having changed out of her ballet clothes and into a regular outfit. Her curls of red hair hung down to cover her face, he couldn't exactly see her but he knew she was frowning.

Cato decides he isn't being a proper gentleman like he was taught, and politely offers a strawberry to Eliana. She glances over, he nods at it. She shakes her head, laughing a bit with a light-hearted smile, "I'm sure they're delicious, but I'm allergic to berries. Thanks for the offer, though."

She then returns to minding her own business, playing with the loose elastics on her pointe shoes. Finnick comes out, waving to his friends and winking at a few other ballerinas exiting the building. They all blush with weird little smiles, and they skip away while whispering with each other. Eliana peeks up, devoid of any emotions as her boyfriend unintentionally flirts with the other girls.  
His shaggy bronze hair reflects with sunlight, his beach-tanned body moving effortlessly as he nears the red-haired girl. His white smile disappears as he notices her looking at her bruised and battered feet, widely exposed with the only coverage being flip-flops.

"You ready, love?" He asks, Eliana peeks up and nods, trying to smile. "Yeah..!" She stands, stashing her things back into her bag, and then rushing to the car quickly. "I'm ready."

Finnick—having never seen his typically content girlfriend this low—furrows his brow. "The car's unlocked, I'll meet you there in a sec." He turns to talk to Cato, who sits chewing his fruit busily and blinking up at his friend.

"Dude, does she seem upset?"  
Cato doesn't answer, just takes another meek bite into a strawberry.  
Finnick shrinks a bit, his face falling in defeat.

The blonde wonders how he could be so blind. When you're in a relationship, aren't you supposed to only send your blatant affections toward your partner? From what he saw, Finn was a ladies' man, even if he only pursued relationships with the girls he truly likes, he still can't resist a little wink or flirtatious smirk every now and then.

"I'll see you around, okay?" He waves goodbye, running off to his navy blue car in the distance where Eliana waits for him.

He continues sitting on the fountain's edge, playing with the fabric of his sweatshirt-hoodie, not thinking about anything at all. Or at least, trying not to think about anything at all.

A posse of younger girls skip on by in matching pink tights, black leos, and black dance shorts with a sports jacket. They have messier buns a top their heads and theatrical pink tutus circling their hips, they whisper to each other as he catches their innocent eyes. As soon as he smiles, they turn away from him. He doesn't take it to heart, he knew that it must be strange to be smiled at by a boy much older then you. He didn't care to be one of _those guys._

Soon enough, Haymitch's car pulls up and Cato quickly gets his things together. He finds that Clove is in the passenger's seat, writing in her journal, and Jason lies peacefully asleep in his booster seat. The blonde slides in next to him, careful not to wake him.

Haymitch asks how class was as he pulls the car into motion, swerving out onto the main road. Cato simply says 'fine' and then looks out the window.  
"What'd he say?" Clove asks, not removing her attention from her journal as she scribbles messy words onto the lined pages.  
"'Said it went fine."

Clove purses her lips and nods, shutting the notebook and throwing it to the floor in front of her seat. She turns around as best she can while strapped into the car, looking as the teen behind her stares out the window to admire the passing buildings. "Hey," She catches his attention, he looks to her. "When we get home, we should work on your English more. Okay?"

* * *

******Was this awkward? I think so. I hope it doesn't suck too much, though. It seems with each update, my writing downgrades even more, lol!**

**First things first, I am aware this chapter is probably a big fat mess, unfortunately I wrote it over the past months in short bits so much of it won't tie together very well. Second things second, I don't have any idea what the characters from Catching Fire and Mockingjay look like or are like. This is how I imagined them and how I wanted them to look in my fanfic, _I'm not asking you to correct me. _**

******Third things third, Finnick/Annie fans need to remember that in my fic, Annie is still over in Poland and will remain there for the time being so Odesta cannot and _will not_ be a couple. So naturally, at 4 in the morning, I paired Finnick with Foxface. I've seen Clove and Finnick paired together. This isn't that different, right? **

**Let's face it, the only normal ship in this story is Clato itself. _The rest are complete crack-ships. _If you don't like crack-ships, chances are you won't like my story.  
**

**Reviews are never required to receive another chapter (those kind of people piss me off) but they are appreciated and give me lots of inspiration!**

**By the way... I REALLY NEED IDEAS...**

**Au revoir, beaucoup d'amour,  
****TheUnrulyBallerina xxx**


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